,.^... 


IMAGE  EVALUATION 
TEST  TARGET  (MT-3) 


1.0 


I.I 


■  50     ^^^       HW^^ 

■^  ^   12.2 
«*    14^    111112.0 


lim 


IL25  IIIIII.4   111.6 


V] 


vl 


7 


7 


/S^ 


Photographic 

Sciences 

Corporation 


23  WEST  MAIN  STREET 

WEBSTER,  N.Y.  14580 

(716)  872-4503 


CIHM/ICMH 

Microfiche 

Series. 


CIHM/ICMH 
Collection  de 
microfiches. 


Canadian  Institute  for  Historical  Microreproductions  /Institut  Canadian  de  microreproductions  historiques 


Technical  and  Bibliographic  Notes/Notes  techniques  et  bibliographiques 


The  Institute  has  attempted  to  obtain  the  best 
original  copy  available  for  filming.  Features  of  this 
copy  which  may  be  bibliographically  unique, 
which  may  alter  any  of  the  images  in  the 
reproduction,  or  which  may  significantly  change 
the  usual  method  of  filming,  are  checked  below. 


L'Institut  a  microfilm^  le  meilleur  exemplaire 
qu'il  lui  a  6t6  possible  de  se  procurer.  Les  details 
de  cet  exemplaire  qui  sont  peut-Atre  uniques  du 
point  de  vue  bibliographique,  qui  peuvent  modifier 
une  image  reproduite,  ou  qui  peuvent  exiger  une 
modification  dans  la  mithode  normale  de  filmage 
sont  indiqute  ci-dessous. 


D 
D 
D 
D 
D 
D 
D 
D 
D 


D 


Coloured  covers/ 
Couverture  de  couleur 

Covers  damaged/ 
Couverture  endommagie 

Covers  restored  and/or  laminated/ 
Couverture  restaur^e  et/ou  pelliculde 

Cover  title  missing/ 

Le  titre  de  couverture  manque 

Coloured  maps/ 

Cartes  g6ographiques  en  couleur' 

Coloured  ink  (i.e.  other  than  blue  or  black)/ 
Encre  de  couleur  (i.e.  autre  que  bleue  ou  noire) 

Coloured  plates  and/or  illustrations/ 
Planches  et/ou  illustrations  en  couleur 

Bound  with  other  material/ 
Reli6  avec  d'autres  documents 

Tight  binding  may  cause  shadows  or  distortion 
along  interior  margin/ 

La  re  liure  serr6e  peut  causer  de  I'ombre  ou  de  la 
distortion  le  long  de  la  marge  intirieure 

Blank  leaves  added  during  restoration  may 
appear  within  the  text.  Whenever  possible,  these 
have  been  omitted  from  filming/ 
II  se  peut  que  certaines  pages  blanches  ajouties 
lors  d'une  restauration  apparaissent  dans  le  texte, 
mais,  iorsque  cela  6tait  possible,  ^ces  pages  n'ont 
pas  M  filmies. 


D 


Coloured  pages/ 
Pages  de  couleur 


ry( 


I — Images  damaged/ 
Li^i    Pages  endommagies 


D 
D 


Pages  restored  and/or  laminated/ 
Pages  restaurdes  et/ou  pelliculdes 

Pages  discoloured,  stained  or  foxed/ 
Pages  ddcolordes,  tachetdes  ou  piqudes 

Pages  detached/ 
Pages  d6tach6es 


rnxShowthrough/ 
L~J    Transparence 

I      I    Quality  of  print  varies/ 


Quality  indgale  de  i'impression 

Includes  supplementary  material/ 
Comprend  du  materiel  suppi^mentaire 


D 

D 


Only  edition  available/ 
Seule  Edition  disponible 

Pages  wholly  or  partially  obscured  by  errata 
slips,  tissues,  etc.,  have  been  refilmed  to 
ensure  the  best  possible  image/ 
Les  pages  totalement  ou  partiellement 
obscurcies  par  un  feuillet  d'errata,  une  pelure, 
etc.,  ont  M  fiim^es  6  nouveau  de  fa^on  d 
obtenir  la  meiileure  image  possible. 


Additional  comments:/ 
Commentaires  suppl^mentaires; 


Wrinkled  pages  may  film  slightly  out  of  focus. 


This  item  is  filmed  at  the  reduction  ratio  checked  below/ 

Ce  document  est  fiimi  au  taux  de  reduction  indiqui  ci-dessous. 


10X 

14X 

18X 

22X 

26X 

30X 

J 

12X 


16X 


20X 


24X 


28X 


32X 


i 

itails 
I  du 
odifier 
'  une 
mage 


The  copy  filmed  hero  he*  boon  reproduced  thenke 
to  the  gonoroeity  of: 

Dougles  Librery 
Queen's  University 

The  imeges  eppeering  here  ere  the  best  quslity 
possible  considering  the  condition  end  legibility 
of  the  originei  copy  end  in  Iceeping  with  the 
filming  contrect  specificetions. 


Originei  copies  in  printed  peper  covers  ere  filmed 
beginning  with  the  front  cover  end  ending  on 
the  lest  pege  with  e  printed  or  illustreted  impres- 
sion, or  the  beck  cover  when  eppropriote.  All 
other  originei  copies  ore  filmed  beginning  on  the 
first  pege  with  s  printed  or  illustreted  impres- 
sion, end  ending  on  the  lest  pege  with  s  printed 
or  illustreted  impression. 


The  lest  recorded  freme  on  esch  microfiche 
shall  contain  the  symbol  — ►  (meaning  "CON- 
TINUED"), or  the  symbol  V  (meening  "END"), 
whichever  eppiies. 

Maps,  plates,  charts,  etc.,  mey  be  filmed  et 
different  reduction  ratios.  Those  too  large  to  be 
entirely  included  in  one  exposure  ere  filmed 
beginning  in  the  upper  left  hend  corner,  left  to 
right  and  top  to  bottom,  as  many  frames  as 
required.  The  following  diagrams  illustrate  the 
method: 


L'exemplaire  film*  fut  reproduit  grAce  A  la 
g*n«rosltA  do: 

Douglas  Library 
Queen's  University 

Los  imeges  suiventes  ont  At*  reproduites  avec  le 
plus  grend  soin,  compte  tenu  de  le  condition  et 
do  le  nettet*  de  I'exempleire  film*,  et  en 
conformit*  ovec  les  conditions  du  contrat  de 
filmege. 

Les  exempleires  origineux  dont  le  couverture  en 
papier  est  ImprimAe  sent  film«s  en  commen9ant 
per  le  premier  plat  et  en  terminent  soit  par  la 
derni*re  pege  qui  comporte  une  empreinte 
d'impression  ou  d'lllustrstion,  soit  par  le  second 
plot,  selon  le  cos.  Tous  les  sutres  exempleires 
origineux  sont  filmte  en  commen9ent  par  la 
premlAre  pege  qui  comporte  une  empreinte 
d'impression  ou  d'illustration  et  en  terminent  par 
la  dernlAre  pege  qui  comporte  une  telle 
empreinte. 

Un  des  symboles  suivants  apparaitra  sur  la 
dernidre  imege  de  cheque  microfiche,  selon  le 
cos:  le  symbols  — »>  signifie  "A  SUIVRE",  le 
symbols  V  signifie  "FIN". 

Les  cartes,  pisnches,  tableaux,  etc.,  peuvent  Atre 
filmte  *  des  tsux  de  reduction  diff*rents. 
Lorsque  le  document  est  trop  grand  pour  Atre 
reproduit  en  un  seul  ciichA,  il  est  film*  *  psrtir 
de  i'angle  sup*rieur  gauche,  de  gauche  *  droite, 
et  de  heut  en  bas,  en  prenant  le  nombre 
d'images  n*cessaire.  Les  diagrammes  suivants 
lllustrent  le  m*thode. 


rrata 
o 


lelure, 
1  d 


H 


32X 


1 

2 

3 

1 

2 

3 

4 

5 

6 

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i|^'; 


L  O  R  E  T  T  E. 


THE 


HISTORY  OF  LOUIfc^., 


DAIJGHTER   OP   A 


CANADIAN    NUN 


H- 


■Vi:-  :  t,.W:'«. 


EXHIBITING  THE 


INTERIOR 


OF 


FEMALE   CONVENTS. 


Where  is  she,  whose  looks  were  love  and  gladness? 
— Love  and  !:i,ladness  I  no  Icngi-r  see  ! 
She  is  gone  ;  -^nd  since  t!iat  hour  of  sadness, 
Nature  seems  her  sepulchre  to  me. 

Montgomery. 


NEW  YORK  :  ,-  ' 

PRINTED    AND   PUBLIsnEI)    BY   WM.    A.   MBRCEIN, 

240  Pearl  street,  co-nifr  of  Burling-Slip. 

isssl* 


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/  '. .     V   '      l>  > 


:-3i  ;      ^? 


Entered  by  Rowland  Bourne,  aostfrding  to  the  Act  of  Congress  in 
the  year  1833,  in  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court,  of  the 
Southern  District  of  New  York. 


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ARTHUITTAPPAN: 


TBH  tOLVUB  IS  XNSCBIBBD,  AS  A 

TRIBUTE   OF  RESPECT, 


I-,  ^'  >'  .. 


FOR  HIS  0HRI8TIAN  FHILANTHBOFY  AND  ZBAL, 


IS  ID 

the 


ON   BSHALF   OF   THB 


"BLIND   AND  WRETCHED.' 


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New  York, 


S*       M  March,  1833. 

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^'INTRODUCTORY    LETTER. 


•tt*.  ' 


"Pq    *     *    ♦     * 

Some  yeara  ag:o,  my  friend,  I  made  a  tour  in  Canada ; 
^nd  was  introduced  to  a  gentleman  whose  extensive  know- 
ledge of  the  local  scenery  of  that  Province,  and  of  the 
most  influential  persons  in  society,  greatly  facilitated  my  pur- 
iuits,  and  enlarged  my  information.  He  accompanied  me  to 
Montmorepci,  Lorette,  and  Lake  Charles.  On  our  return,  as 
we  sauntered  around  the  mill  at  the  Indian  village,  admiring 
ihe  picturesque  beauties  of  the  rapids  in  the  stream.—"  This 
place,  said  Oiganu  ;  is  associated  with  very  affecting  oc- 
currences."   "  What  were  they  ?"  was  my  inquiry.         <<^ 


', 


He  paused,  as  if  perplexed  at  the  consciousnt::£  i  f  an  im- 
prudent disclosure ;  and  upon  my  repeating  the  question,  he 
merely  added,—"  The  tale  is  too  long  for  our  present  hear- 
ing, and  must  not  now  be  told." 

On  a  subsequent  visit  to  Quebec,  a  large  party  proposed 
the  same  excursion,  again  to  enjoy  a  sail  upon  the  Lake. 
Diganu  took  his  seat  in  my  caleche.  We  halted  at  the  Inr 
dian  village  on  our  return ;  and  having  crossed  the  bridge, 
we  arrived  at  the  spot  where  the  dell  is  viewed  in  all  its  strik- 
ing varieties.  After  surveying  the  river  and  its  banks  with 
"-■:/■-::  1  ^  "'■'': 


,  ^S., 


I- 


u    . 


much  MBotkm ;  my  aged  companioii  remarked.—'*  I  intima* 
ted  to  yoo  two  years  ago,  the  intense  .interest  which  1  feel 
in  beholding  this  scene.* 


t» 


"  Yes— I  replied,  and  my  curiosity  was  awakened  by 
your  intimation.  Often  at  a  long  distance  have  I  remember* 
ed  Lorette,  and  have  been  sadly  tantalized  with  your  re- 
serve.** 

'*  The  expression  of  my  feelings  then,  in  a  measure,  was 
involuntary— he  answered— but  the  causes  of  my  silence  will 
soon  cease  to  eiist,  ko  that  before  you  leave  Montreal,  you  shall 
possess  the  whole  story.  It  is  not  probable,  he  added— after 
our  separation  for  this  season,  that  we  shall  ever  meet  again 
on  earth.  My  age  precludes  the  possibility  of  my  long  con* 
tinuance  in  this  world ;  and  a^  you  do  not  expect  to  be  in 
Canada  until  a  distant  period  shall  have  arrived— I  will 
confide  to  you  the  circumstances  to  which  1  alludedj  with 
other  details  of  human  life,  which  I  have  met  with  during 
my  terrestrial  pilgrimage." 

Prior  to  my  departure ;  Diganu  presented  me  a  large  sealed 
packet.  "  This  parcel,  said  he,  contains  the  record  of  some 
past  events  and  characters.  It  is  not  tu  be  opened  until  you 
have  been  apprised  of  my  decease.  After  that  event,  the 
narratives  are  subject  to  your  disposal." 

My  friend's  painful  anticipation  was  realized.   We  met  ho 

Nmore.    During  the  last  spring,  when  I  was  looking  forward 

to  the  pleasure  that  I  should  experience  in  a  renewal  of  social 

intercourse  with  the  veteran ;  after  the  lapse  of  a  longer  time . 


\i 


t 


vu 


than  usufti,  from  the  reception  of  his  final  epistolary  remem* 
brancer{  I  was  informed  of  bis  peaceful  departure  firom 
earth;  and  of  the  testamentary  bequest  by  which  he  had 
m^l^ested  his  cegard  for  his  distant  acquaintance.       „_. 

The  packet  was  immediately  unfolded ;  and  the  contents 

appeared  so  interesting  and  instructive,  that  it  was  decided, 

others  bliould  peruse  the  delineations  it  comprised.    A  note 

was  inclosed  which  thus  explained  the  Writer's  views  and 

designs.  ,  .      i'v.4 

"  ■;.  r  ■  .    ';•-••  "Tt-u  a^'.yv  ,   ■ 

"You  will  perceive,  my  beloved  friend,  that  these  sheet*  ^^ 
have  been  written  at  very  distant  intervals.  They  contain 
notices  of  persons  and  things  characteristic  of  Canadian 
society.  The  names  of  all  the  parties  are  changed.  Al' 
though  the  actors  have  disappeared  and  the  curtain  has  drop> 
ped  upon  their  part  of  the  tragic  drama,  yet  as  the  narrator 
would  surely  be  known,  1  have  imposed  the  seal  of  secrecy, 
until  it  will  be  of  no  importance  to  me^hat  use  is  made  of 
these  documents.  I  consign  the  manuscripts  to  you  now,  in 
preference  to  leaving  them  among  my  papers ;  as  in  that 
case,  they  might  never  have  been  seen  by  you  ;  for  it  is 
most  probable,  that  those  persons  who  must  necessarily  act 
under  my  last  will,  would  destroy  memorials  which  record 
facts,  that  no  man  in  Canada  woijld  dare  to  publish.  When 
you  peruse  hese  biographical  narratives,  you  will  be  re- 
minded of  Lorette  ;  and  of  your  ' 

Faithful  and  affectionate 


Wi*ii. 


*»VJ 


Cape  Diamond,      i 
fOth  September,  1836.  $ 


DIGANU." 


*> 


iftS. 


'  f  .•— * 


=««»«»«*'"*•*•"■« 


'V 


viu 


W 


The  manuscripts  thus  confided  to  my  perusal  were  mani* 
festly  written  when  the  occurrences  were  vividly  impressed 
upon  the  memory.  Many  remarks  and  circumstances  have 
been  omitted.  They  betrayed  a  little  of  the  old  gentle- 
man's garrulity,  and  were  sometimes  irrelevant,  or  too  caustic 
and  severe  With  the  exception  of  the  commencement,  the 
documents  have  been  transponed,  so  as  to  adapt  them  for  a 
continuous  history.  '  '  ' 


'^.^iPij 


No  stranger  can  visit  Canada  without  an  awakened  and 
deep  interest  and  an  acute  American  observer  of  life  and 
manners  naturally  inquires  into  the  causes  oi'  those  varied 
novelties  which  attract  his  notice.  The  peculiar  characteris* 
tics  of  society  thfie  elude  a  slight  regard  ;  and  to  compre- 
hend the  state  of  religious  principles,  the  tune  uf  domestic 
morals,  the  mental  vassalage,  and  the  profound  debasement 
of  the  habitans  of  that  Province,  numerous  diificulties  and 
obstructions  must  be  surmounted.  Patience,  with  persever- 
ance, is  necessary  to  delve  into  the  secrets  of  their  social 
and  political  condition. 


A  solicitude  to  understand  and  analyze  the  elements  oi 
Canadian  character  and  habits,  influenced  me  to  use  all  the 
means  to  obtain  accurate  and  diversified  information  upon 
these  melancholy  topics.  My  acquaintance  with  Digamu 
aided  my  design.        ^^  t, 

The  circumstances  of  his  life  had  increased  his  tact  for 
surveying  those  around  him ;  and  his  whole  course  had  ren- 
dered it  necessary  for  him  to  watch  with  all  keenness,  the 
wayward  doings  of  his  associates  and  fellow-citizeos.    His 


4ir 


:•#:■ 


rWv'.! 


->..  ^^ 


l\ 


:•<>• 


ix 


Diani' 
>resMd 
9»  have 
gentle- 
caiutic 
nt,  (he 

for  a 


dand 
e  and 
varied 
uteris- 
npre* 
nestic 
ment 
and 
ever- 
iocial 


is  01 
I  the 
ipon 
ranu 


fov 
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the 
His 


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natural  aptitude  of  diKriroination  had  received  in  additkmaJ 
impulae  by  the  intelligence  which  he  had  imbibed,  and  at 
he  eiprenaed  it—"  After  my  eyes  were  once  opened,  I  main- 
tained a  sleepless  watch  upon  the  proceedings  of  every  pt^ 
soni'Witb  whom  I  was  obliged  to  become  acquainted.  To 
that  tnoat  uncomfortable  suspiciousness  of  all  mankind,  in 
which  for  some  years  1  lived,  I  am  indebted  for  the  tern- 
poral  comfort  which  I  enjoy ;  and  I  passed  through  one-half  ot 
my  earthly  course,  before  I  fully  comprehended  the  meaning 
of  a  solitary  exercise  combined  with  the  charities  of  domes* 
tic  life ;  except  in  connection  with  the  affair  of  Lorette  and 
Chretien !  When  eating  my  solitary  meal,  or  roaming  alone 
around  the  city ;  often  have  I  vented  my  dreary  feelings  and 
morbid  disquietude  in  this  homely  couplet — 


Father,  mother,  sister,  brother,  friend — 

Wife  !— Ah  !  what  do  those  dear  names  intend  ?" 


■r; 


Diganu  however  had  survived  all  his  forced  and  unnatural 
misanthropy.  He  displayed  tenderness  and  affection  of  the 
highest  order,  commingled  with  a  charming  sincerity,  that 
rendered  communion  with  him  increasingly  delightful.  The 
arcana  of  Canadian  society  he  unfolded  in  ita  minutest  fea* 
tures ;  and  however  perplexing  some  of  his  statements  ap- 
peared ;  he  affirmed  them  to  be  all  true,  and  vanquished 
incredulity  by  evidence  which  no  scepticism  could  deny. 

In  the  following  narrative,  some  of  the  contents  of  my  own 
yort-iolio  are  conjoined  with  Diganu's  details.  To  specify 
the  distinctions  is  superfluous.  All  the  circumstances  are  part 
of  those  annals  which  represent  man  as  he  is,  not  as  fiction 
describes  him. 

-  V-"*""  ■  ■ 


•w^ 


-£ 


'Wf**^"- 


'    \  ; 


v^V- 


•3S?' 


» 


A  flattering  portrayer  of  Canada  delineates  the  batHtaB»     ' 
upon  the  banks  of  the  river  Lawrence,  as  a  gallant,  high  4^:; 
principled,  enlightened,  and  dignified  race  of  mortals,  ol     ;^ 
superior  mental  elevation  and  moral  worth*    To  assume  this 
standard  of  any  nation,  en  massej  is  over-stepping  the  bouc- 
daries  of  veracity,  and  that  it  is  totally  inapplicable  to  the 
Gallic  population  of  Lower  Canada,  is  known  to  every  in* 
dividual  who  has  not  continued  in  a,dead  sleep,  while  mak- 
ing  the  grand  northern  tour.. 

The  enpuing  pages  depict  Canadian  personages,  not  in  the 
imaginative  embellishments  of  romance,  but  in  the  unadorned 
drapery  of  truth.  Who  of  Diganu's  actors  strutted  on  the 
theatre  of  life,  anterior  to  the  capture  of  Quebec  by  Wolfe's  \^^ 

army,  and  who  are  of  a  subsequent  period,  there  is  no  clue- 
to  discover^  His  descriptions  of  the  natural  scenery  are  very 
correct :  and  some  of  his  individual  portraits  and  narratives 
of  events,  I  have  frequently  heard  attested  as  matters  oi 
common  notoriety. 


I 


This  explanation  contains  all  that  is  necessary  as  an  intro- 
ductbry  notice  to  Lorette.  You,  my  friend,  I  trust,  will 
unite  in  judgment  with  the  opinion  of  several  clergymen 
who  examined  the  manuscript,  before  it  was  sent  to  press  ; 
that  the  perusal  of  this  narrative  will  enhance  the  love  of 
freedom,  intelligence,  purity  and  truth ;  and  also  render  that 
triple  unholy  alliance,  ignorance,  error  and  corruption,  more 
odious  and  repugnant. 

'.-!#■;  *  ♦  *  * 


■^ 


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X 


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,-...•  *i^,. 


^-.-.  •*" ' 


,,*^*1»«-«C'^- 


.^r- 


!)abitaii»     ' 
It,  higb^ 
'tals,  of 
ime  this 
e  bouc> 
e  to  the 
ery  in- 
e  mak- 


vjf. 


^t 


«■<;■ 


j»^''*"' 


v!*-*? 


V,.„. 


■'  •    '    *  ...     ..                ■} 

-'  f' ■  ■ 

LORETTE. 

"^'^^r^' 

'■  1    '  «   • '  >        .                       ,  vV 

A. 


"  Amid  the  crowd,  the  hum,  the  shock  of  men, 
To  hear,  to  see,  to  feel  and  to  possess, 
And  roam  along,  the  world's  tired  denizen, 
With  none  who  bless  us,  none  whom  we  can  bless  ; 
Minions  of  splendor  shrinking  from  distress ! 
None  who  with  kindred  consciousness  endued, 
If  we  were  not,  would  seem  to  smile  the  less. 
Of  all  that  flatter'd,  follow'd,  sought  and  sued ;  ' 

This  is  to  be  alone— this,  this  is  solitude  !"        J* 

.  ^    -.V 

•  .** 
On  the  twenty-first  day  of  December,  17 — ,  Digaiiu 

,ind  Chretien  devoted  the  hours  to  a  circuitous  ride 

;irouud  Quebec,  for  the  purpose  of  arranging  the  most 

agreeable  mode  to  dissipate  the  approaching  Christmas.. 

in  conformity  with  the  Canadian  customs.     This  is  a 

season  of  festivity,  in  which  every  species  of  sensual 

indulgence  is  admitted  without  restriction.    Considera 

ble  preparation  and  expense  and  all  possible  ingenuity 

are  impressed  into  the  service  Co  render  the  close  of  the 

year  a  period  of  jollity,  a  carnaval ;  when  folly  and 

vice  rule  in  all  plenitude  of  sway.     High  Mass  having 

been  chanted ;  it  seems,  that  the  people  think  the  Savior 

is  honored  in  exact  pioportion  to  the  extent  of  their 

criminal  revelry. 


u 


"    *  \ 


f 


sw 


12 


In  these  practice$.»Digaou  had  been  nurtared.    AIL^ 
hid  ideas  of  religion  were  conipressed  witbuia  (iliit?;  .^ 
Like  every  other  orderly  peaceablei  Canadia||deymee  j' 
his  creed  of  faith  comprised  but  two  articles^— "  i  toUst^ 
believe  only  what  the  priest  teaches ;  and  when  I  die, 
I  shall  go  where  Le  Pretre^  the  Priest,  chooses  to  send 
me."    His  moral  code  was  equally  concise  and  edify- 
ing— « I  must  do  all  that  the  Priest  orders." 

Thus  the  revolving  years  repeated  the  same  unvary- 
ing  routine.  Dancing,  gambling,  and  dissipation  for 
two  weeks  from  Christmas. — Gormandizing,  drinking 
and  frolic,  during  several  days  before  Lent — pretended 
fasting,  confession  to  Le  Pretre,  and  mumbling  over 
the  Ave  Mary,  until  Good  Friday-^High  Mass  and 
every  species  of  youthful  gratification  in  full  indulgence 
at  Easter ;  with  all  the  other  annual  minor  repetitions 
ef  the  same  farce  of  religious  buflfoonery ;  the  same 
drivelling  comedy  of  low  life,  and  the  same  heinous 
tragedy  of  spiritual  crime. 

His  companion  on  the  ride  to  Charlebourg  and 
Lorette,  was  of  the  true  Caliadian  orthodox  stamp ;  a 
creature  reckless  of  the  past,  present  and  future ;  who 
regularly  practised  all  the  exterior  mummery  which  ' 
Le  Pretre  enjoined ;  and  with  no  less  confidence  impli- 
citly trusted  his  soul  to  the  Priest's  safe  keeping  and 
clemency.  They  had  completed  ail  their  arrange- 
ments, and  in  their  carriole,  with  characterist  levity 
were  exulting  in  their  anticipated  delights  at  the  ensuing 
festival.    When  they  arrived  at  the  head  of  the  dell  of 


■idlim»hf 


■^*^ 


JadiaJrAl.^'uf 


»rf  when  I  die, 

rQooeeBtosencI 
■^  and  erf,yy. 

;a»Meunvary. 
'ssipation  for 
«§•>  driijlring. 

—pretended 
nWing-  ovei' 
'  ^«ss  and 
indulgence 
repetitions 
*^e  same 
^  heinous 


■  '-p*^ 


v**-. 


■r'» 


,■*'' 


>*■•. .    .*•■ 


■-^•- 


k 


■^*:  %: 


>^.i' 


1^ 


?'^::.%^ 


z' 


^rg"  and 
Samp;  a 

e;  who 
wiiic/, 

'g"  and 
mnge- 

isuing 
fell  of 


t. 


'''  m 


4^, 


}■ 


.•aajfcn  J  .A*  rtj*f -t:  4"»- 


^jae*..' 


V.V- 


m. 


m 


f 


■^Mt 


^ 


%, 


n 


Lorette,  through  which  the  river  Charles  to  impetuoualy 
rushes,  their  attention  was  absorbed  by  an  object  which 
deeply  alarmed  them. 

It  was  a  moonlight  evening ;  but  the  heavens  were 
partially  covered  wkh  those  deep  gray  flitting  clouds, 
which,  in  connection  with  the  luminous  effects  of  the 
snow,  give  to  the  northern  regions  that  peculiar  aspect 
which  the  Canadian  winter  nights  present;  and  which 
attach  to  objects  at  a  certain  distance,  a  shadowy  indis- 
tinctness, that  is  calculated  to  excite  very  undefinable 
emotions.  Whether  the  tone  of  their  feelings  had 
l?en  too  highly  exhilarated,  and  the  revulsion  so  na- 
tural in  such  cases  affected  them  is  ii]unaterial^— but 
Diganu  remarised  to  his  companion—"  what  is  that 
figure  standing  upon  yonder  rbck  7" 

"  du  'est  que  c'est  ?  What  is  it — replied  Chretien : 
Je  ne  sais  pas ;  I  know  not :  but  it  looks  like  a  woman. 
We  must  hurry  round  and  ascertain." 

As  they  rapidly  crossed  the  stream,  they  discerned 
that  it  was  a  female  figure.  Her  head  was  uncovered ; 
her  hair  was  disordered  ;  she  had  none  of  the  clothiog 
usual  for  that  inclement  season  ;  and  she' appeared  to 
be  wringing  her  hands,  beating  her  bosom,  and  agoni- 
zed in  the  extremity  of  despair.  Perceiving  her  perUoos 
situation,  Diganu  end  Chretien  with  all  possible  ex- 
pedition hastened  to  the  spot ;  but  as  they  approached 
the  projection,  she  was  invisible.  Upon  examinatioOj 
they  found  a  young  woman  prostrate  against  a  jutting 


li 


'^  -^SltM'S 


-m 


■^'^ 


i 


tree,  wounded,  iasennble,  with  half  her  body  reitiiigt 
on  a  Inrge  branch ;  by  which,  it  Was  evident,  that ^he 
had  been  saved  from  beiiig  precipfftated  one  hundred 
feet  into  the  yawning  abyss.  Th^  rescucid  her  from 
her  imminently  dangerous  poeitidh,''co1Iected  a  bonnet, 
with  some  other  articles  of  female  Winter  dress,  ahd 
without  delay  transferred  her  to  the  attentidns  of  the 
neighboring  squaws.  -il!^ 

Diganu  determined  to  remain  at  Ijorette  to  await  the 
result,  while  Chretien  drove  to  Quebec  to  procure 
medical  aid.     During  the  night,  »\\e  continued  totally 
unconscious,  and  apparently  in  a  death  like  stupor. 
Not  a  memorial  was  found,  by  which  her  niime,  place 
of  abode,  or  connections  could  be  ascertained ;  and  it  was 
not  until  the  morning,  when  the  suri^eon  arrived  and 
bled  her.  that  she  exhibited  any  symptoms  of  energy.      i 
Her  wounds  were  pronounced  to  be  slight,  but  as  she 
appeared  to  be  in  a  high  fever,  it  was  indispensable      '' 
that  she  should  remain  where  she  had  been  first  con- 
veyed.   Diganu  and  his  Cotnpanion  engaged  to  pro- 
vide all  suitable  conveniencies ;  and  to  devote  the  days       ^ 
of  the  festival  in  assisting  to  restore  their  patient.  ; 

How  changed  the  scene!  The  two  thoughtless  ' 
children  of  vanity  sacrificed  all  their  fancied  enjoyments 
to  watch  a  stranger,  whom  they  ha^  delivered  from 
destruction,  or  to  a  daily  ride  into  Quebec  for  medical 
direction  and  the  necessaries  essential  for  their  protegee. 
The-close  of  the  holiday  approached ;  and  their  sister^  , 
as  the  youths  familiarly  denominated  her,  for  she  was 
evidently  of  about  their  own  age,  still  remained  in  a 


><"-- 


-<.^- 


.,j^ 


\ 

yttnlfcirty  delicate  copditkm.  To  1«ave  her  was  vma* 
voidable ;  they  the||i|^e  confided  her  to  the  care  of  two 
iquawa.  Fr^gaei^y  did  they  visit  her  as  ehe  became 
convaleecent-j  and  frhen  permitted  by  the  surgeon,  they  ' 
conducted  her  to  the  city,  and  placed  her  where  she 
could  be  duly  attended  and  watched. 

In  reference  to  every  thing  personal,  she  maintained 
the  most  cautious  reserve.  All  their  ingenuity,  and 
Diganu  betrayed  a  peculiar  interest  in  her  welfare,  was 
meffectual  to  elicit  the  least  erlimpee  of  her  history. 
There  was  a  cause  however  for  the  deep  sympathy 
which  Diganu  especially  manifested  towards  her. 
When  she  was  first  carried  to  the  Indian  cottage ;  and 
her  head  was  washed  to  remove  the  blood  which  was 
upon  her  face  and  temples ;  at  the  top  of  her  forehead, 
was  a  small  punctured  cross,  With  the  letter  M  perfectly 
invisible  as  the  hair  was  usually  worn ;  and  of  course, 
known  only  to  herself  and  to  the  person  who  im- 
printed it.  ^  ,       4i44. 

.■         ■  ■  '  "•- ,     ;'•■'■    i!> 

Diganu,  according  to  a  delusive  infatuation  among 
some  of  his  countrymen,  had  a  place  on  his  crown 
shaved,  and  on  this  bald  spot  was  also  a  small  cross, 
marked  «i?ith  the  letter  D.  W  hen  the  squaws  called  the 
young  men  to  look  at  the  cross  concealed  by  her  hair, 
thereby  to  ascertain  the  identity  of  her  whom  they  had 
saved  from  death,  Diganu  recollected  what  he  had 
heen  told  of  his  own  head,  and  desired  Chretien  to  ex-  . 
amine  it.  The  similarity  of  the  figures  was  so  great, 
Chat  his  friend  declared  j[  they  must  h»ye  been  impra?-,, 


i'- 


jy^ 


I 

^1 


J 


r 


-ff 


•>  74* 


':  A 


16 


,#■" 


M^  by  t)ift  same  person.  Sach  a  coincideneeatany  otbef 
period  would  have  been^  unooticed — but  iu  the  thet) 
state  of  Diganu^s  eiccited  feelings,  he  considered  it  as 
almost  miraculous ;  and  he  therefore  became  addition- 
ally interested  in  the  daughter  of  sorrow,  wha  had  thus 
been  so  fortuitously  cast  upon  bis  protection.  All  the 
parties  present,  the  Squaws,  the  Indians  and  Chretien, 
being  then  equally  super&titious,  their  varied  remarks 
only  tended  to  increase  the  impression  upon  his  mind ; 
until  he  resolved  to  make  any  sacrifice  for  her  comfort 
and  safety. 


The  two  friends  at  that  period  were  commencing 
life  on  their  own  basis.  Both  had  just  previously  en- 
tered upon  a  small  business  ;  and  they  therefore  agreed 
aa  soon  as  the  patient  had  fully  recovered,  to  make  her 
an  offer  to  superintend  their  little  bachelor's  establish- 
ment. She  was  to  be  considered  in  all  points  as  their 
sister ;  and  to  receive  all  the  attentions  and  endear- 
ments of  that  tender  relaticti.  But  to  this  proposition, 
Louise,  as  she  declared  her  name,  stedfastly  objected. 
She  seemed  to  hav«  an  unspeakable  aversion  to  be  the 
subject  of  a  stranger's  scrutiny.  Her  dislike  was  finally 
vanquished. 


« 


Diganu  and  Chretien,  when  she  felt  fully  restored, 
were  discussing  with  Louise,  her  future  prospects.  This 
topic,  during  her  milady,  had  never  engaged  her  atten- 
tion. When  the  subject  was  ihus  distinctly  presented 
to  her  consideration,  she  instantly  realized  all  her  de- 
pendent and  friendless  condition.     She  was  deeply 


^- 


*       ,.,■(• 


t'-*    w 


(igilated.  Her  friends  aisurecl  her,  that  their  soliciiade 
was  only  for  her  comlbrt ;  and  that  they  would  consent 
to  any  arrangement  which  she  would  propose)  provided 
that  it  was  beneficial  to  herself. 


In  the  course  of  the  interview,  she  acknowledged 
that  she  was  qualified  in  various  ways,  to  support  her- 
^If;  but  she  palpitated  with  tremor,  whenever  any 
plan  was  suggested,  through  which  she  could  possibly 
be  recognised,  or  even  known  to  any  other  persons ; 
and  expressed  her  hope  that  the  attending  Surgeon  had 
not  seen  her  forehead.  This  allusion  reminded  Digann 
sind  Chretien  of  the  cross ;  and  they  informed  her  of 
the  discovery ;  but  also  assured  her,  that  the  nurses 
only,  except  themselves,  were  acquainted  with  it ;  and 
that  the  squawH  merely  crossed  themselves,  when  the^ 
saw  what  they  thought  the  mysteriously  good  sign  upon 
her  head. 


"I  propose— said  Chretien — that  we  inspect  that 
cross  again.  Your  peculiar  situation  may  have  deceiv- 
ed me ;  but  if  my  (pinion  was  then  correct ;  I  think  I 
can  point  you  to  a  sign  not  less  remarkable."         .^ 

After  some  hesitation ;  liouise  consented ;  and  the 
cross  was  still  visible  in  all  its  distinctness.  "  What  is^ 
the  design  of  this  letter  M  ?"  inquired  Diganu. 


"  I  know  not — she  faintly  replied  with  a  blush — no 
person  has  seen  it  before  yourselves,  since  I  first  discov- 
ered it.    The  only  w^an,  who  I  can  think,  might 

2 


•e^. 


m 


'*'-•■      "i^      -l*«*e»i(| 


•!«•.■* 


r--^-*.. 


■^  . 


f  '  W  ' 


hK9fi  eiplained  the  mystery,  eitbar  did  not  know, 
whkb  1  believe  most  probable,  or  else  ehe  coneidered 
me  too  young  to  be  intriuted  with  the  secret.'* 

«Eh  Wen!  well;  Diganu— said  Chretien—vous 
avezraison;  you  are  right."  .r.^ .  ,; - 

"  What  do  you  mean  '2"  asked  the  anxious  Louise. 

Chretien  then  requested  her  to  examine  the  shorn  spot 

on  niganu'H  head :  but  she  had  no  sooner  seen  the 

tahsmaiiic  mark,  than  she  sunk  into  her  dhair  almost 

/ '    fointiog. 

When  she  was  restored  ;  "Diganu — said  Louise— 
you  have  already  told  me  that  from  a  certain  sympa- 
thy for  which  you  cannot  account,  you  feel  peculiarly 
^  interested  for  iny  welfare.     This  remarkable  cross 

^  stamped  upon  both  of  us  justifies  the  confidence  that 
1  am  about  to  place  in  you.  You  will  permit  me  to 
maintain  all  the  secrecy  I  please.  I  shall  neither  visit 
nor  receive  visiters ;  nor  shall  I  be  seen  by  any  of 
your  associates.  Upon  these  conditions,  I  will  consent 
to  perform  the  menial  duties  of  your  house." 

This  arrangement  was  objected  to  by  Chretien. 
••  You  have  not  been  used  to  kitchen  business.  Your 
refined  manners — said  he — your  delicate  frame  ;  your 
>  soft  and  white  hands  ;  and  your  excellent  understand- 
ing, with  yoin-  other  capacities,  prove ;  that  yoo  have 
not  been  and  are  not  qualified  to  be  a  household 
drudge." 


f 


'i 


':■■         '« 


r"*w%(!<5ss5 


;i 


19 


"r 


*^l  have  stated — replied  lx)ui8e — the  only  ternn 
upon  which  I  will  consent  to  place  myself  under  yoar 
protection."  » 

The  next  evening  was  designated  for  her  removal. 
When  Diganu  and  Chretien  were  conversing  over  this 
scheme ;  they  both  agreed,  that  no  other  iiuKle  was 
practicable  to  preserve  Louise  from  misery.  The  gloom 
upon  her  mind  was  very  oppressive.  Her  timidity  of 
being  noticed  was  unconquerable;  at  the  sauie  time 
her  resolution  was  so  undaunted,  that  every  thmg  was 
to  be  dreaded,  in  case  she  should  be  exposed  to  the  same 
trial  which  had  already  jeoparded  her  life.  Yet,  she 
had  never  betrayed,  by  any  intimation,  that  her  near 
approach  to  death  at  Lorette  was  voluntary  ;  and  the 
only  emotion  that  she  exhibited  was,  when  any  inquiry 
\»as  made  into  her  prior  history.  Her  friends  therefore 
resolved,  that  they  would  accept  of  her  services,  retain 
her  secret  in  all  possible  privacy ;  and  permit  her  to  live 
as  secluded  and  unknown  as  she  pleased. 

Far  other  ideas  occupied  the  mind  of  Louise,  during 
the  interval  prior  to  her  actual  residence  with  her  de* 
liverers.  Their  knowledge  of  her  awful  situation  at 
Lorette;  their  acquaintance  with  the  mysterious  cross  on 
her  forehead  ;  the  similar  mark  on  Diganu's  head ;  the 
rbk  of  her  being  discovered ;  their  doltish  subserviency 
to  their  Priest,  notwithstanding  their  better  sense  <n)d; 
principles,  combined  with  their  gay  and  frivolous  uim* 
pers;  and  her  own  hatred  and  contempt  of  all  the 
mummery  of  their  superstitions,  embarrassed  her  judg- 


.z' 


i'. 


5?" 


■J^*: 


tn«nt ;  and  had  a  certain  Mcape  been  practicable,  she 
andoubtedly  would  have  attempted  it  To  Uve  ••  she 
had  done  when  sick  was  impossible.  It  appeared  to 
her  therefore,  preferable  to  rely  upon  the  promises  ol 
two  open  hearted  young  men ;  all  whose  actions,  kind* 
ness  and  intercourse  had  been  so  benevolent  and  frater- 
nally delicate,  than  to  expose  herself  to  the  terrifying 
dangers  from  which  she  had  so  recently  and  marvel- 
lously escaped.  Under  the  concealment  of  darkness, 
she  left  her  apartment  unobserved,  and  was  intro- 
duced to  her  new  habitation.  *r. 

From  the  commencement  of  her  abode  with  her 
friends,  Louise  uniformly  refused  to  eat  with  them  ; 
and  never  admitted  herself  to  be  addressed  but  as  their 
inferior  and  servant.  At  length,  howtfver,  they  noticed 
thxt  she  used  no  mass  book  ;  and  thai  she  kept  no 
crucifix ;  no  images ;  no  holy  water ;  no  beads ;  and  no 
rosary.  These  deceitful  baubles  had  been  duly  pro- 
vided for  her  chamber,  but  they  were  all  removed ;  and 
the  old  cross  which  hung  over  the  kitchen  fire-place 
had  disappeared,  and  no  vestige  of  popery  remained, 
it  was  determined  by  her  protectors  to  explore  this 
mystery. 


M 


^: 


,*-.. 


'■'-..  I 


c 

t 
t 


Diganu,  being  in  the  kitchen,  inquired  of  Louise  ; 
'^  What  has  become  of  the  sacred  cross  which  used  to 
adorn  the  mantle  peice  ?"  "You  agreed" — replied  the 
trembling  maiden — "  to  hi  me  live  according  to  my 
own  way. 


n 


.  U.'i : 


r( 


USS-, 


■^.  ^^ 


■{ 


■:ri-^ 


■i  "J'-' 


■Vlfl».J<>l^*.  "•■»,>•.' 


-«— — --<«iW^«5&5iP«!^^ 


9% 

*'  Wo  did  80 — said  Di^anu— but  then  we  took  it  for 
g(ranted  that  you  belonged  to  the  Holy  Roman  Ohurch.'^ 

"  You  should  have  asked  me  that  at  flrat"— Louise 
ivieekly  answered — "and  my  gratitude  and  candor 
would  have  induced  me  to  confess  that  I  belong  to  no 
visible  Church." 

"  This  justifies  exactly  what  Chretien  and  I  have 
thought — rejoined  Diganu — wo  put  into  your  sleeping 
apartment,  the  Mass  book,  the  true  image  of  the  Bless* 
cd  Virgin,  and  the  Holy  Crucifix  which  all  good  Cath< 
olics  worship.  We  also  procured  some  holy  water 
bought  from  the  priest  himself  as  a  great  favor ;  and  a 
rosary  made  by  the  Nuns  and  blessed  by  the  Bishop  ; 
and  they  are  all  gone.  Mere  de  Dieu !  priez  pour 
nous,  Mother  of  God,  pray  for  us.  Ah  !  Louise :  do 
vou  never  use  these  sacred  things  ?  " 

"  No — she  replied  without  hesitation — "  I  burnt  the 
Mass-book,  the  Images  and  the  rosary.  The  water  I 
cast  into  the  street,  and  if  you  knew  as  much  as  I  d(»of 
the  Priests  and  their  pretended  religion  ;  you  would  do 
the  same."  ".' 

,  •      •  >.■■.*■ 

In  deep  thought,  Diganu  paused ;  but  at  length 
remarked.  "  I  do  not  comprehend  how  we  shall  man* 
age  this  affair."  , 

"Very  easily — instantly  subjoined  Louise— you  need 
not  know  any  thing  of  ray  principles.  With  my  private 


2* 


/:  j' 


"■*. 


.'>i 


\* 


\ 


■.•■r^r 


:--J 


■iiifeAiw-. 


*\ 


!■(. 


H   4 


1^; 


V 


opioions,  whether  right  or  wrong ;  as  they  will  be  harm 
lesB  to  you  and  ChretieD,  you  have  no  concern.  You 
provided  for  me  a  number  of  articles  which  I  deeni| 
useless ;  and  the  disposal  of  them  was  my  own  af- 
fair." '<  But — inquired  Diganu — suppose  I  am  asked 
about  this  matter  at  confession  :  what  shall  I  answer  V 


"  Tell  the  Priest,  his  articles  were  all  safe  the  last 
time  you  saw  them — added  Louise — «,nd  say  no  more. 
It  is  enough  for  you  to  confess  your  own  sins ;  and  let 
me  beg  you  not  to  assume  my  transgressions.  Re- 
sides, you  promised  not  to  let  it  be  kno;..*,  if  possible^ 
to  the  priest,  that  you  Iiad  any  young  woman  in  youi 
house." 


^^ 


•'I  suppose  then — leraarked  Diganu — you  will  nor 
attend  confession,  do  penance,  and  get  absolution  froni 
the  Priest  r 

"  Never — said  the  weeping  giil,  with  manifest  trepi 
dation — 'I  will  never  go  to  the  confessional  unless  I  am 
dragged  there.     The  ceremony  is  a  farce  and  delusion, 
and  it  is  connected  with  the  greatest  wickedness." 


Diganu  crossed  himself,  and  half  shuddered,  lie 
was  sadly  bewildered.  This  was  a  direct  attack  made 
by  a  female  for  whom  he  felt  an  indescribable  inter 
est,  upon  all  his  strongest  prejudices.  In  truth  he 
seriously  believed  no  more  of  the  matter  than  Louise  : 
because  he  had  never  seriously  reflected  at  all  upon  the 
subject.    According  to  his   theology,  it   was  a  ver\ 


■i 


•'■i 


-.-w*j,'>^-,smV.jss5: 


."*?' 

%•'■- 


% 


•A 


.  ^: 


im: 


comfortable  thiQg  to  pass  away  life  in  a  frolic ;  to  j^y 
the  Pretre  his  various  claims  at  the  stated  festivals  ws 
long  as  he  lived ;  and  when  he  died,  to  give  him  the 
number  of  louis  d'ors  necessary  to  put  him  into  Hea- 
ven. He  had  never  inquired  whether  either  of  these 
principles  or  practices  was  rational  or  proper  or  true 
or  religious.  The  Pretre  announced  and  enjoined  it. 
All  his  associates  believed  the  certainty  and  justice  ol 
these  notions.  Thus  the  Cure  promised ;  thus  he  ad- 
mitted and  conformed  without  scruple ;  and  a  suspicion 
had  never  entered  his  mind,  that  throughout  this  whole 
process,  the  Pretre  might  be  leading  him  into  the  dun- 
geon of  eternal  despair. 


''i 


".■;> 


It  was  a  merciful  interposition  of  Divine  Providence, 
ihat  these  "heretical"  sentiments  were  first  uttered  in 
Diganu's  hearing,  by  the  only  female  for  whom  he  had 
ever  felt  any  true  respect  or  attachment.  Yet  he  could 
not  define  the  nature  of  his  regard  for  the  mysterious 
being  who,  in  such  extraordinary  circumstances,  had 
been  placed  under  his  care.  There  was  such  an  art- 
less sincerity  and  candor,  such  undissembled  delicacy, 
such  infantile  simplicity,  and  yet  such  a  lady  like  de- 
meanor, and  such  u  sisterly  confidence  in  him,  ever 
displayed  by  Louise  in  all  her  actions,  that  her  influence 
unintentionally  became  irresistible.  Chretien  perceiv- 
ed the  fact,  and  rejoiced.  It  was  a  counterbalance  to 
the  buoyancy  of  Diganu's  gay  and  sanguine  tempera- 
ment. But  when  the  "heretical"  propensities  of  their 
inmate  were  decidedly  avowed  by  her ;  the  friends 
r)ecame  wondrously  embarrassed. 


k 


.  _.C. 


*♦•. 


^f^ 


■■■*titkr- 


■->^km^ 


^i 


i-y 


4:1 


24 


Ti^ 


ri 


At  that  period,  the  idea  of  a  native  Canadian's  re- 
QUDciation  of  the  Roman  faith,  was  notoaly  a  novelty, 
but  a  monster.  From  their  diffeient  sensations  in  re- 
ference to  Louise  ;  Chretien,  although  kind  and  affec- 
tionate as  a  brother,  was  not^  easily  impressed  as 
Diganu ;  and  "  it  is  questionable,  whether  sound  poli- 
cy— as  Chretien  remarked—  if  not  our  mutual  safety 
does  not  require,  that  Louise  should  be  persuaded,  at 
least,  to  attend  the  Mass." 

Several  months  however  had  passed  away  prior  to 
these  troublesome  discoveries;  and  when  they  were 
fully  made ;  the  uninformed  opinions,  with  the  tender 
solicitudes  of  the  two  young  men,  combined  with  the 
steadfast  opposition  of  Louise  to  the  faith  and  ceremo- 
nies to  which  they  professed  to  adhere,  produced  in  them 
great  vacillation.  During  that  whole  period,  Diganu's 
affection  assumed  a  more  decisive  character ;  and  hav- 
ing obtained  Chretien's  approbatioi.,  he  resolved  to 
terminate  all  future  doubt  and  alarm,  by  proposing  to 
her  acceptance  the  matrimonial  relation. 

The  Surgeon  whom  Chretien  had  engaged  to  at- 
tend at  Lorette,  about  this  time,  and  prior  to  the  direct, 
proffer  of  marriage,  visited  Diganu ;  and  requested  in- 
^rmation  respecting  the  young  woman  to  whom  he 
had  been  called  to  afford  medical  aid  at  the  Indian 
village ;  as  the  squaws  had  communicated  to  one  of 
the  Pretres,  the  event  which  had  occurred  during  the 
previous  winter,  and  he  was  directed  to  ascertain  the 
fiite  of  the  unfortunate  girl.  Diganu  evaded  the  sub 
ject  by  a  reference  to  Chretien. 


V  V . 


> 


^..M'-A 


«■  »f 


That  evenings  was  devoted  to  an  inveatigation  of  tbe 
causes  of  this  suspicious  research — but  as  neither 
Piganu  nor  Chretien  could  possibly  divine  any  plausi- 
ble reason  for  the  Surgeon's  mysterious  inquiry,  after 
so  long  an  interval  had  elapsed  ;  Louise  was  apprized 
of  the  fact. 

"Then  I  am  lost — she  remarked  in  agony — the 
villains  will  discover  me.  They  will  take  me  from 
you,  and  I  shall  be  miserable."  # 

V 

<■  .      '       '     ' 

"  No  authority  upon  earth  shall  separate  us — answer- 
ed Diganu  vehemently — if  you  will  put  yourself  within 
my  power  to  protect  you,  by  becoming  my  wife." 

"  Wife  ! — retorted  Louise  in  extreme  unfeigned  sur- 
prise— I  have  loved  you  as  a  sister.  Wife ! — would 
you  marry  misery  ? — would  you  marry  a  friendless, 
outcast,  wretched  orphan  ?"  She  was  so  overpowered^ 
that  her  conflicting  emotions  only  found  relief  in  a 
gush  of  tears. 

As  soon  as  she  was  in  a  measure  becalmed,  Diganu 
answered  with  affectionate  sensibility. — *'  I  care  nol 
who  you  are,  or  what  you  are.  For  nearly  a  year^. 
you  have  been  all  to  me ;  and  Chretien  knows,  thai 
you  are  the  constant  blessing  of  our  lives." 
-:ii<*!Sm::  -v .,  ■.     ■  .  •  -  ^■•.:. 

Here  Chretien  interposed — "  When  Diganu  confided 
his  intention  to  me,  I  expressed  to  him — and  here  he 
took  their  right  hands  and  joined  them  within  his  own 


Sfc'- 


>»»• 


.^•. 


^r*"-***'^''   '**'"'  '»''*»*"*>-*'«'^"'-i^->-<»v-     ,.  ^ ,  ,i^-:>.  ^ 


Jtiif^^ 


'^' 


I  ■■•»>- 


...■-....  >, 


r;  ..«•, 


t 


26 


— as  I  now  do  to  you  both,  my  m«jt  cordial  approba- 
tion — and  crossing  himself,  he  added — Sainte  Mere 
de  Dieu  !  ayez  pitie  de  nous:  Holy  mother  of  God^ 
have  mercy  upon  us !" 

Louise  blushed ;  trembled ;  hesitated ;  but  at  length 
replied — "if  no  other  means  nin  be  devised  to  preserve 
me  from  my  persecutors  and  dar.gers,  1  will  place  my 
future  comfort  in  your  hands." 

•       4  . 

This  preliminary  being  satisfactorily   adjusted  ;  it 
now  became  essential  to  prepare  Chretien  for  the  pro- 
posed interview  with  the  Surgeon.     Louise  imparted 
no  additional  information.    It  was  her  unalterable  pur- 
pose, never  more  to  return  whence  she  had  escaped ; 
and  rather  than  experience  this  calan  ity — "if  no  other 
mode  exists  to  avert  the    horrors  I   anticipate — she 
said,  and  her  convulsed  movements  proved  them  to  be  no 
fiction— I  would  fly  to  the  end  of  the  earth  and  suffer 
every  possible  torture ;  trusting  in  the  mercy  of  that 
God  who  already  has  permitted  you  once  to  deliver  me 
from  going  down  to  the  pit,  and  by  whose  blessing 
upon  the  reading  of  his  word — for  she  had  procured  a 
Bible,  although  her  friends  understood  not  her  meaning 
— I  begin  to  enjoy  some  hope  of  hie  pardoning  love." 

It  was  finally  resolved,  that  her  place  of  abode  should 
be  concealed,  and  all  acknowledgment  of  any  present 
acquaintance  with  her  be  eluded,  by  a  reference  to  the 
person  with  whom  she  stopped  after  her  arrival  in 
Quebec  from  Lorette.    So  well  contrived  had  been  her 


Q 


'-v: 

•T-. 


•   4 


aacr«t  depariura,  that  when  Diganu  and  Chretien  adM 
to  inquire  for  Louise,  the  mistress  expressed  great  alarm  i 
at  her  absence,  and  declared  her  total  ignorance  of  the 
time  and  manner  of  her  disappearance.  To  that 
nurse  it  was  agreed  therefore,  that  Chretien  should  di- 
rect the  Surgeon  ;  and  it  was  hoped,  that  her  reply  to 
the  call  weuld  preclude  all  future  inquiry. 

The  plot  partially  succeeded  ;  for  when  Diganu  and 
the  Surgeon  applied  to  the  nurse  with  whom  she  had 
lodged,  the  woman  unhesitatingly  afiirmed ;  *<  that 
Louise  had  escaped  in  a  dark  night,  that  the  young 
men  had  often  made  inquiries  for  her,  and  that  she 
could  never  discover  any  trace  of  the  girl  since  that 
day." 

But  who  can  fathom  the  depths  of  a  Jesuit  ?  Who 
can  comprehend  all  his  artifices,  malignity,  and  wiles  ? 
How  can  a  Roman  withstand  the  usurped  supremacy 
of  his  Priest  ? — A  mariced  difference  was  manifest  in 
Diganu's  character ;  he  had  lost  his  thoughtless  hilarity, 
and  was  distinguished  for  his  gravity,  attention  to  husi- 
ness,  and  indifference  to  his  former  associates.  This 
change  was  imputed  by  the  ordinary  citizens  to  his 
love  of  money  ;  but  the  crafty  Priests  suspected  some 
other  motive,  and  instantly  resolved  to  penetrate  th« 
secret. 

Knowing  that  theseasons  of  Canadian  festive  amuse- 
ment and  of  social  merriment  are  the  periods  when 
men,  and  especially  youth  are  most  unguarded  ;  they 


■'V 


■■^r ' 


'.■■';^^;: 


■  hopedf  diving  the  Christinas  camaval  to  ensnare  him; 
but  Diganu  was  also  on  the  watch.  Louise  had  been 
able  to  communicate  to  him  a  very  small  portion  only 
of  evpagelical  wisdom — yet  it  had  induced  him  primari- 
ly to  doubt,  then  to  disbelieve,  and  finally  to  reject  all 
the  vicious  catalogue  of  papal  traditions ;  although  he 
continued  to  exhibit  an  exterior  respect  for  the  ceremo 
nial  mummery  of  the  Mass. 

The  Priests  speedily  marked  him  as  a  person  "  sus~ 
y  Ipected  of  heretical  pravity,"  and  combined  to  entrap 

him.    As  a  tool  for  their  conspiracy,  they  employed  the 
r  mercenary  Surgeon  ;  and  a  strict  inspection  was  con- 

stantly maintained  upon  all  Diganu's  niovements. 


V     -I 


On  New  Year's  day,  the  two  friends  resolved  to 
ride  to  Lorette,  and  there  to  retrace  the  events  of  the 
former  festivalt  While  absent  on,  their  excursion, 
the  Surgeon  called,  under  the  pretext  of  presenting 
the  customary  salutation,  and  saw  Louise,  with- 
out recognising  her  in  the  specious  disguise,  or  rath- 
er incongruous  dress  which  she  always  wore  to  elude 
the  possibility  of  being  identified.  But  the  fact,  that 
there  was  a  servant  girl  living  with  Diganu  and  Chre 
tien  impelled  additional  inquiry,  and  it  was  determined 
by  the  Priests  to  pursue  the  search. 

Not  long  after,  the  Chaplain  of  the  Ho::p'tal  Nun- 
nery induced  the  woman  with  whom  Louise  had 
boarded  after  her  removal  from  Lorette  to  duebec,  to 
enter  Diganu's  apartments  during  his  absence  ;  but  so 


-<f»rw»lf5S"J**  «■"'■■ 


v!,=^- 


.is 


^■^■ 


% 


20 


completely  altered  was  liouise  by  her  uncbuth  and  low* 
ly  dress  and  her  assumed  ignorance  and  rusticity,  that 
the  Nurse  knew  her  not ;  and  in  very  peremptory  terms 
reported  to  her  Priest — "there  is  not  the  smallest  resera- 
Uance  in  any  respect  between  the  sweet  young  Lady 
who  was  in  ray  house,  and  the  ugly  paysanne  whom 
I  saw  there." 


3^j 


.1 1 


Louise  instantly  perceived  that  the  object  was  mere- 
ly to  ascertain  the  reality  of  her  residence  with  her 
friends ;  and  thus  was  induced  to  consent  without 
further  hesitancy,  to  the  nuptial  union  proposed  by 
Diganu.  The  Lent  had  partly  elapsed,  and  the  day 
of  the  marriage  ceremony  was  fixed  about  the  earliest 
period  allowed  by  the  Romish  canons  ;  for  then  there 
was  no  Protestant  Minister  in  Quebec. 


At  this  juncture,  a  strange  Priest  entered  the  house, 
and  his  remarkable  appearance  not  only  attracted 
Diganu's  attention,  but  impressed  him  with  deep  fear- 
'fiilness.  He  detailed,  with  all  minute  exactness,  the 
disappearance  of  a  young  novice  from  the  care  of  the 
Nuns  at  Point  aux  Trembles  ;  stated,  that  she  hai^ 
been  traced  to  the  Indian  village  of  Lorette ;  that  i^ 
was  supposed,  she  had  there  been  robbed  and  otherwist 
ill  treated ;  that  she  had  subsequently  been  seen  iA 
Quebec  ;  and  that  the  Surgeon,  who  had  been  seal 
for,  to  visit  her,  had  affirmed,  that  Diganu  and  anolli«|p 
young  man  named  (Chretien  who  dwelt  together,  faMj, 
been  guilty  of  enticing  her  away  from  the  protectiii^.^  ! 
of  the  Religieusas ;  ^ad  that  having  inflicted  upoQ'l«y\  ; 


•-  »••*! 


4k 


30 


(!  , 


the  most  atrocious  injuries,  they  had  discarded  her,  and 
left  her  to  perish,  or  had  secretly  murdered  their  victim. 

'-  '■  ■*■  -■»  tj  ■■-. 
While,  with  all  menacing  indignation,  he  was  ve* 
hemently  unfolding  this  dread  tule,  and  intermingling 
the  utmost  Jesuitical  finesse  to  insnare  Diganu,  (^hretien 
entered.  They  both  denied  the  application  of  the  nar- 
rative, in  whole  and  in  part.  By  prior  concert,  with- 
out doubt,  the  surgeon  also  appeared  ;  and  confirmed 
that  yart  of  the  statement,  in  reference  to  his  being 
desired  by  Chretien  to  visit  a  young  female  who  was 
discovered  at  Lorette  wounded,  and  in  a  very  distressful 
condition.  The  surgeon  also  added — "  the  only  way 
by  which  she  can  be  identified,  as  the  Squaws  infor- 
med me,  is  by  a  small  cross  immediately  at  the  top  of 
her  forehead."  At  the  mention  of  this  particular  mark, 
the  Pretre  fixed  upon  Diganu  one  of  those  withering 
portentous  looks  which  a  Jesuit  or  a  Dominican  only 
can  infuse  into  the  human  countenance.  The  attempt 
was  vain ;  for  it  excited  no  alarm ;  and  from  conscious 
innocence,  the  two  friends  betrayed  not  the  least 
emotion.    ,..^..  ... 

"  Ah  ! — said  the  Pretre — I  perceive  that  you  are  har- 
dened in  your  iniquity,  and  hope  to  escape  the  censures 
of  the  Church,  and  the  arm  of  Justice  ;  but  to  let  you 
know  that  I  am  acquainted  with  all  your  secrets — and 
he  uttered  a  tremendous  oath — remember  the  cross  on 
thy  own  head  ;  thou  disguised  heretic  !" — He  arose, 
and  witfiout  another  word,  accompanied  by  the  surgeon, 
instantly  departed.  '  ^V- 


^'^''^A 


<A!,f. 


-  >.  •  - 


■s 


•m 


31 


,i      »     r 


A 


There  was  a  cold-blooded,  malignant  apathy  in  the 
voice  and  countenance  of  the  Priest,  the  diilling  eflfrcts 
of  which,  all  their  efforts  to  resume  fortitude  could  not 
repel.  The  painful  sensations  which  they  realized, 
were  forcibly  aggravated  by  Louise,  who  entered  soon 
after  the  disapiifurance  of  the  Priest,  and  whose  fea- 
tures wofully  displayed  all  the  anguish  which  lacerated 
her  soul. 


"  I  am  lost — I  am  lost — at  length,  she  said,  in  a  fear- 
>ful  tone — it  is  all  ended — nothing  can  save  me." 

Every  attempt  to  soothe  her  was  vain ;  and  the  only 
thing  which  in  any  measure  appeared  to  Arfiaure  hef, 
was  the  reiterated  promise  by  Cvhretien,  that  death  or 
iiresistiltle  lawless  violence  alone  should  separate  her 
from  I  Mganu.  She  requested  again  to  examine  the 
cross  to  which  the  Priest  adverted,  and  having  beheld 
it  for  a  moment,  she  recoiled  with  terror — *•  Rely'upon  it, 
Diganu — slie  uttered,  apparently  almost  suffocated — 
we  shall  never  be  united."  , 

Chretien  again  attempted  to  appease  her  heart-rend- 
ing distress  Mid  his  friend's  agony,  with  this  consola- 
tion.— "  Fear  not — said  he — force  only  shall  derange 
the  plans  to  which  you  have  consented." 

Diganu  also  avowed  his  unalterable  resolution  to 
sacrifice  every  thing  in  her  defence,  provided  Louise 
would  confide  to  him  the  cause  of  her  sorrows  and 
anxieties.    Aa  it  had  been  arranged  that  they  should 


m 


/-'^■"N- 


-.*--.. 


■¥ 


--■■}■ 


be  married  at  Lorette,  she  promised,  on  the  last  night 
prior  to  their  union,  should  it  occur,  to  divulge  to  him 
and  to  Chretien  her  previous  history. 

When  Chretien  went  to  Lorette  to  acquaint  the 
Priest  of  the  Indian  village  of  his  desired  attendance 
to  perform  the  ceremony,  and  virhen  Diganu's  name 
was  mentioned  as  the  bridegroom  ;  a  ghastly  expres- 
sive leer  filled  the  face  of  the  Priest,  wHicli  to  ihe  youth 
portended  no  good  to  his  friends.  Upon  liiis  i«)turn  to 
Quebec,  he  therefore  strongly  remonstrated  against  the 
place,  the  time,  and  the  Priest;  and  dissuaded  them 
from  waiting  until  that  day,  and  much  more  from 
oroceedins  to  Lorette,  for  the  solemnization  of  their 
nuptials.  Louise  however  determined  those  points,  by 
remarking — "  If  we  are  to  be  uuiied,  the  time,  place 
or  Priest  makes  no  diflference.  Such  is  the  intimate 
connection  and  secret  understanding  among  them  all ; 
that  if  any  deed  of  darkness,  which  I  have  too  much 
reanon  to  dread,  is  to  t)e  performed ;  I  should  prefer 
Lorette  to  any  other  spot  for  the  execution  of  their 
wicked  purposes.  To  escape  out  of  the  Province  is 
impossible.  It  is  therefore  of  no  importance ;  for  if 
Divine  Providence  interposes  on  my  behalf,  it  will  be 
every  where ;  and  if  1  am  to  be  sacrificed,  the  Lord'e 
will  be  done." 


•y 


Her  alaj^m  and  resignation,  the  conjunction  of  which 
neither  Diganu  nor  Chretien  could  accurately  compre- 

,  hend,  aggravated  their  disquietude  and  anxiety ;  which 
were  not  alleviated,  by  their  perceiving,  ttiat  a  strange 

\|^est|  with  his  unknown  companion,  seemed  (o  be 


..'.j-y^v^ 


•>-*»-.**>fr 


-smmf'  ri.agr/.  ^-^hw,^^..,.,-  •»«*«.■' 


jr*^':??-"' 


-^,^- 


i 


■nTT? 


J\ 


i? 


33 


constantly  watching  all  their  motions.  Thoie  spies, 
%is  they  frequently  passed  the  hoube,  especially  stopped 
when  near  it,  and  appeared  to  be  prying  keenly  as  if  to 
discover  all  their  concerns  and  visitors  ;  and  they  were 
also  noticed  not  to  cease  their  scrutiny  even  after  the 
day  had  ended.    "      '         '^T  -  "^* 

On  the  third  day  prior  to  the  intended  marriage, 
while  pursuing  their  business,  Diganu  and  Chretien 
fancied,  that  they  had  seen  iu  the  street,  one  of  the 
Indian  women  who  had  nursed  Louise  during  her 
sickness  at  Lorette ;  and  were  stmngely  agitated  at 
iheir  dinner,  when  they  were  informed  by  Louise,  that 
the  Squaw  had  forced  herself  unceremoniously  into  the 
house  ;  and  notwithstanding  every  attempt  to  conceal 
herself,  and  to  elude  recognition  ;  that  the  Indian 
woman  had  gone  away,  resolutely  maintaining,  that 
she  was  the  very  same  person  who  had  been  found  at 
liOiette,  and  that  she  Icnew  her  amid  all  her  disguise. 


f^'.;; 


sTV 


(■  >-a>- 


Fatuity  itself  could  not  possibly  suppose,  from  the 
peculiar  season,  of  her  rude  visit  to  an  unknown  dwell- 
^  ing,  that  this  rencontre  was  either  fortuitous  or  unin- 
tentional. Diganu  and  Chretien  both  urged  Louise 
to  change  the  place  where  the  ceremony  should  be  per- 
formed. She  remained  inflexible  on  that  point ;  assur- 
ing them,  as  she  said — "  the  result  will  not  be  altered 
by  any  scheme  which  we  can  devise  or  effect ;  and  I 
am  convinced,  when  you  shall  have  heard  my  tale, 
your  opinions  and  mine  will  perfectly  agree." 

3* 


'^;m 


c 


.•m 


^^jt- 


4 


Av 


A 


3< 

Tilt  pvtin  met  at  the  cloee  of  the  last  day ;  for 

Louiae  had  expressly  stipulated  that  Chretien  should 

be  present ;  and  to  their  profound  astonishment,  she  waa 

arrayed  in  the  same  dress  in  which  they  had  first  be< 

held  her.     Diganu  and  his  friend  were  deeply  affected. 

The  former  felt  entirely  enervated  with  the  weight  of 

his  recollections,  his  fears,  and  his  expectations. 

It 

"  You  will  excuse  my  clothing — said  the  timid  sob- 
bing girl — it  will  be  my  bridal  array :  and  it  was  the 
most  suitable  for  me  to  appear  in,  while  unfolding  the 
causes  of  our  first  meeting,  with  all  its  pleasing  and 
painful  consequences."  , 


Diganu  seated  himself  by  her  side.  As  he  took  her 
hand,  she  leaned  her  head  on  his  shoulder — "you  must 
not  look  at  me — she  remarked — while  I  tell  you  my 
short  but  sorrowful  history.  Our  relative  situation  re- 
quires this  sacrifice  of  my  feelings  in  honour  and  duty 
(oyou ;  and  the  care,  tenderness,  delicacy  and  affection 
vrhich  you  both  have  ever  manifested  towards  me, 
encourages  this  confidence  in  you.  If  we  are  for 
ciUy  separated^ — and  a  sigh,  which  escaped  from  each 
expressed  their  mutual  anxiety — my  tale  will  teach 
you  to  lament  your  lust  companion  ;  and  if  we  should 
be  united,  it  will  prove,  that  you  may  ever  confide  in 
the  sincerity  and  faithful  attachment  of  your  Louise." 

During  the  pause  which  ensued,  while  Louise  was 
epdeavoring  to  summon  fortitude  for  the  detail  vhicb 
her  fHends  weire  so  anxiously  expecting,  a  knock  was 
heard  at  the  door.  Chretien  answered  the  call ;  and  re- 


.''i'<!^' 


•   1 


••).Afimt; 


^  m     m  m* 


turned  wiih  a  latter  for  Diganu.  Upon  •lamining 
the  mipencriptien,  k  developed  -»  female'i  chirographjr. 
LouiM  had  no  sooner  glanced  at  the  envelope,  than  the 
was  seized  with  an  involuntary  convulsive  shuddering. 
When  the  fit  had  partially  subsided,  she  faintly  articu- 
lated.— "  I  know  that  writing  and  seal.  I  have  seen 
it  once  before.  It  is  the  harbinger  of  my  misery."  Af- 
ter a  long  pause,  with  the  profound  silence  of  her  two 
friends,  she  added, — "but  I  bless  Ood,  that  if  he  permits 
my  tormentors  to  ^ake  me  wretched,  he  has  given  me 
grace  to  resist  all  their  arts  to  render  me  criminal." 

Diganu  having  read  the  letter,  presented  it  to  Chretien 
for  his  perusal.  During  this  interval,  the  former  impa 
tiently  traversed  the  room,  absorbed  in  thought ;  and 
when  his  friend  restored  him  the  ominous  scroll,  he 
motioned  his  hand  that  Louise  might  inspect  its  mys' 
terious  contents.  Both  were  too  overpowered  to  speak. 
Louise  examined  the  sheet  with  varying  features ;  and 
when  her  first  powerful  excitement  had  passed  away, 
she  was  less  agitated  than  could  have  been  supposed. 
Uer  feelings  speedily  assumed  the  character  of  a  settled 
purpose,  to  submit,  with  all  possible  fortitude,  to  the  ca- 
lamity which  in  her  judgment  was  clearly  inevita- 
ble.  At  length;  she  thus  interrupted  the  silence. 
''My  sensibilities  always  told  me,  Diganu,  that  you 
were  indulging  chimerical  hopes  respecting  our  union; 
and  however  unaccountable  the  fact;  ray  affection 
for  you  is  of  a  totally  diferent  quality,  from  that  which 
nature  dictates  to  me,  I  should  have  felt  for  Chretien, 
had  circumstances  and  our  mutual  inclinations  induced 


rv. 


/  'V 


f. 


N 


M 


"i 


,ya^,Jt**„;>t;.:N';i>V  -,, 


■■■■r.         , 


i*> 


36 


him  to  hare  made  me  a  proffer  of  his  hand  and  heart. 
But  it  is  now  too  late  to  reverse  the  past ;  and  not  less 
impossible  to  change  the  manifest  certainties  of  the  fu- 
ture." '  '■'^:-":'uj 

Before  Louise  commenced  her  narrative,  Chretien 
proposed  to  discuss  the  contents  of  the  letter,  and  to  de- 
cide upon  its  intimations.  Th©  sheet  wis  perfectly 
anonymous  ;  it  unveiled  neither  place,  date  nor  signa- 
ture ;  and  was  obviously  written  with  great  delibera- 
tion.    Its  contents  follow. 


\i 


To  DiGANU. 

You  are  surrounded  with  dangers.  It  has  been  as- 
certained that  you  have  livmg  with  you  a  young  wo- 
man called  Louise ;  and  that  you  are  to  be  married 
after  Easter.  She  never  can  be  your  wife.  Pauvres 
miserables !  Poor  wretches  !  You  are  in  a  labyrinth, 
and  cannot  be  extricated.  The  only  mode  of  '^•'cape 
would  be  by  fleeing  from  the  Provinc«i;  but  that 
now  is  impossible.  You  are  watched  by  day  and 
by  night;  and  any  attempt  to  elope  would  ensure 
your  own  death,  with  that  of  Louise  and  your  friend 
Chretien.  Not  only  would  you  all  three  be  murdered, 
but  no  vestige  of  you  would  be  found,  and  no  inquiry 
would  be  made  after  you.  It  is  impossible  to  avoid  it. 
You  and  Louise  shall  be  separated.  If  you  do  not 
present  yourselves  for  the  marriage  ceremony  as  pro 
posed,  Louise  will  be  taken  from  youi'  house  on  that  eve 
ning  by  force,  and  the  consequences  of  attempting  to 
protect  her,  will  be  horrible.    But  remember ;  if  you 


v.T!j.'ti'^>a(t*,- 


'Mmu. 


,w*'- 


87 


proceed  to  Lorette  to  be  united ;  she  will  be  taken  from 
you  at  the  Altar.  Do  not  offend  the  Holy  Priests. 
Believe  what  they  tell  you.  Do  just  as  they  say ; 
and  all  will  yet  be  well." 

"Stop!  Chretien — said  Louise  hastily — let  me 
think  for  a  moment."  After  a  pause,  she  thus  continu- 
ed— "those  are  the  very  words  which  were  in  the  let- 
ter that  I  received  in  the  same  hand-writing.  There 
must  be  some  wonderful  mystery  in  this  matter." 

Chretien  proceeded  to  read — "  It  is  of  no  use  to  resist. 
You  will  thereby  only  injure  ycurself,  increase  sorrow 
for  liOuise,  find  iiivolve  your  friend  in  distress.  Louise 
has  offended  the  < /hurch.  She  is  dtron^ly  suspected  to 
he  a  heretic.  Some  time  ago,  she  was  excomniuiucated. 
She  will  liave  to  undergo  very  deep  penance,  before  sh^ 
will  be  restored  to  the  bosom  of  our  holy  Mother." 

Louise  could  not  restrain  her  Christian  indignation. 
"  All  the  plagues  pronounced  in  the  eighteenth  chapter 
of  the  Revelation  be  upon  your  holy  Mother ! — she 
proclaimed  with  great  energy — thanks  be  unto  God,  I 
despise  your  excommunications ;  and  as  for  your  deceit- 
ful penance,  I  would  rather  brave  the  martyr's  fire^ 
than  join  in  your  abominations  and  idolatry." 

"  Not  so  fast — interposed  Chretien — how  can  you, 
an  inexperienced  solitary  girl  set  up  your  judgment 
against  the  iofallibiiity  of  the  Roman  Church  and  his 
holiaess  the  Pope  ?" 


i 


"m 


iff 


*^      M 


-..■i;X 


"  Noasense ! — retorted  Louise — they  are  infallible  in 
nothing  but  impiety  and  wickedness.  Pardon  my  in- 
terruption ;  this  is  no  time  for  religious  discussion  ;  but  1 
could  not  repress  the  sudden  excitement  of  my  contemp- 
tuous feelings,  for  such  a  base  effort  to  outrage  my  chris- 
tian  principles,  and  disgrace  my  personal  character." 


Chretien  pursued  his  reading. — '*  You  also  are  be 
ginning  to  be  suspected  of  heresy,  because  you  have 
encouraged  her.  She  has  great  sins  to  atone  for  in 
disobeying  the  Priests.  She  has  lost  the  Itenefit  of  the 
cross  on  her  forehead  by  depiirliiig  from  the  Church. 
Take  care  ;  for  by  receiving  her  opinions,  you  will  blot 
out  the  cross  on  your  own  head,  and  thus  rush  into 
misery.  You  know  that  if  we  do  not  do  as  the  Priests 
order  us,  we  shall  not  have  their  pardon  and  unction 
when  we  die,  nor  shall  we  obtain  the  comfort  of  their 
masHcs  ill  another  world.  Be  up^m  your  guard.  Give 
up  Louise  at  once,  peaceably.  Tfike  care  of  yourself 
Keep  away  from  heretics.  Hearken  to  the  Priests: 
and  then  you  will  be  happy. 


This  reference  to  the  crosses  imprinted  upon  Louise 
and  Diganu,  rendered  the  information  conveyed  by 
their  anonymous  correspondent  more  alarming — be> 
cause  it  assuredly  implied  an  acquaintance  with  i^ouise 
and  Diganu  and  their  prior  life,  of  the  very  early  parts 
of  which  they  themselves  were  altogether  ignorant. 
The  only  particular  which  either  Digunu  or  Louise 
held  ever  explained  to  each  other,  was  in  reference  to 


..  1 


V--7-- -•-- 


-T'-.yr3^:y^xzu::sm*<^''-'- 


11 


39 

the  expression  of  Louise,  when  the  proposal  of  mar- 
riajsre  was  so  abruptly  but  formally  made  ;  and  when 
she  described  herself  as  a  "  wretched  orphan."  I  >n  a 
subsequent  occasion,,  Diganu  remarked — "  this  can  be 
no  objection.  I  am  an  orphan  too;  and  never  knew 
what  the  intercourse  or  feelings  of  friendship  and  affec- 
tion were,  except  Jviih  you  and  Chretien." 

When  he  had  concluded  the  letter,  Chretien  remark- 
ed— "  We  cannot  live  long  in  this  state  of  alarm  and 
uncertainty  ;  but  the  alternatives  seem  so  dreadful, 
that  of  the  three,  I  am  inclined  to  adopt  the  plan  of 
self-defence  :  to  delay  your  marriage  for  a  short  period, 
to  provide  a  safe-guard,  and  to  keep  as  much  in  the 
house  as  possible." 

Diganu  observed — "  This  plan  is  impracticable. 
Duty  often  culls  me  from  home ;  you  are  generally 
away  during  the  hours  of  business ;  in  whom  could  we 
confide  V  "  Nobody — answered  t  hretien — but  what 
do  you  think  of  an  application  to  the  Governor  V  ''The 
Governor  ? — exclaimed  Louise — he  would  not  dare  to 
do  any  thing  in  reference  to  the  matter,  except  as  the 
Bishop  and  the  Priests  direct.  Besides  the  continual 
alarms  and  fears  would  be  more  afflictive  than  the 
reality.  One  i^  sudden  calamity  ;  the  other  would  be 
never  ending  bitterness,  with  additional  danger  in  the 
end,  for  no  advantage." 

Chretien  however  was  dissatisfied,  and  again  inquir- 
ed— "  Is  there  not  one  person  to  be  trusted  !'"  "  1  be- 
lieve not — replied  Diganu — who  beaisa  higher  charac- 


1r 


^ 


Hik- 


./ 


ter  for  honor, ^thai*  the  Doctor?  and  yet  circum* 
stances  convince  me,  that  he  has  been  the  main-spring 
of  this  treacherous  plot  against  lu.  Besides,  could  I 
even  trust  in  your  fidelity,  Chretien,  if  the  Pretre 
ordered  you  to  betray  us."     «J 

The  question  was  apropos.  His  unreserved  sub< 
jection  to  a  Jesuit ;  the  endeared  claims  of  friendship 
from  childhood ;  and  the  sacred  obligations  of  honor 
and  duty,  all  were  here  at  once  arrayed  together  in 
direct  collision.  Louise  half  smiled  in  her  tears,  as 
she  contemplated  the  internal  conflict  which  agitated 
Chretien.  '  ^i.?. 


With  great  embarrassment,  after  a  long  pause,  he 
replied — "  You  know,  Diganu,  I  could  not  disobey  the 
Priest  without  risking  the  salvation  of  my  soul." 

"  Eh  bien  !  very  well — rejoined  Diganu — We  are 
bound  together  by  worldly  interest ;  by  long  confident 
(ial  familiarity ;  by  domestic  residence  ;  and  by  al< 
most  brotherly  ties — and  yet  if  that  Pretre  who  was 
here  before,  came  and  demanded  Louise  during  my  ab- 
sence, you  would  give  her  into  his  power ;  or  if  he  now 
entered  with  seme  ruffians  to  seize  her  by  force,  in- 
stead of  resisting  him  and  defending  me,  you  would 
unite  with  him  at  his  command  to  rob  me  of  ray 
greatest  earthly  comfort."  .  -v, ;  -. . 

"  No,  no,  indeed !  answered  his  aatounded  friend, 
startled  at  this  picture  of  treachery  and  priestly  despo- 
tiaU'-'^I  coHld  not  betray  and  desert  you.'' 


(1 


W-r  4- 


'■^        .' 


41 


"^  Ah,  my  friend ! — remarked  Louise,  very  tenderly-^ 
you  know  not  3'our8elf.  Much  as  I  respect  your  pria: 
oiples  and  spirit;  I  know  your  frailty  in  this  point. 
You  would  not  consider  yourself  in  that  case  as  per- 
fidious or  cruel.  It  would  be  a  mere  fulfilment  of  a 
duty  consecrated  by  your  fancied  religion  in  its  most 
authoritative  claims.  1  cannot  trust  you.  It  would 
certainly  destroy  Diganu,  and  only  endanger  yourself.'' 


Ai  ii 


'•H:J.; 


(>  >>•».!• 


Chretien  appeared  to  be  vexed  at  her  suspicions 
and  want  of  confidence — "be  not  displeased — she 
subjoined,  kindly  offering  him  her  hand — I  judge  from 
myself.  Three  years  since,  I  should  as  readily  have 
obeyed  a  Priest's  command  in  every  thing,  as  I  should 
now  obstinately  refuse  to  comply  with  it."      ., ,  ,  ;^„^ 

"Louise  is  correct — remarked  Diganu — twelve 
months  ago,  I  am  certain  that  there  is  no  action  how- 
ever wicked,which  could  have  been  committed  without 
the  cerfainty  of  an  ignominious  punishment  by  law; 
that  I  should  not  have  performed,  if  the  Pretre  had 
enjoined  it.  I  should  have  risked  any  thing  to  fulfil 
disorders,  confident  that  he  was  able  to  save  me  from 
all  trouble." 

In  this  declaration,  Chretien  acquiesced ;  and  Louise 
therefore  speedily  convinced  them,  that  it  was  prefer- 
af)le  for  one  to  sufifer  than  all ;  that  her  condiiion  at 
the  worst  could  not  be  more  afflii^ive  and  peiilotis.  than 
when  they  first  saw  her  ;  that  If  would  only  aggiavate 
her  sorrows  to  know,  that  her  beloved  friends  were  also 


■A.' 


..^,p 


■*'' 


^' 


42 


apOBtd  to  the  Priest's  ruthless  spite ;  that  it  was  fat 
more  safe  to  terminate  their  perplexities  without  delay ; 
that  if  their  fears  were  unauthorised,  their  future  coin^ 
fwt  Would  only  be  increased  after  their  disquietudes 
had  vanished ;  and  that  therefore  to  Lorette  they  would 
proceed  in  the  morning  n& already  arranged.         "*•' 

^ie  interruption  occasioned  by  the  letter,  and  the 
tttibsequent  conversation  had  partially  stengthened 
Louise  for  her  promised  engagement.  From  the  final 
acquiescence  of  her  friends  in  her  decision,  she  had  felt 
encouraged  ;  and  silently  casting  all  her  cares  upon 
God  who  careth  for  those  who  trust  in  him,  and  men- 
tally invoking  his  grace  and  protection  ;  she  once  more 
composed  herself  by  tlic  side  of  Diganu  to  narrate  her 
former  experience^ 

fell   ^1j:;i^?    ''.i'   i:  .!r^.f:'i;'' •   "        •',      •    .     's 


':■;■  U  h 


-d 


-u]t.i  aft 

I..  I  r>ifj 
f>'Hi'ai  ■';.'? 

!  r.v    •.*  " 


*■      H 


■^yvj  i;  ^   i; 


• ,'.  1 . 


i'> 


i- 


r-    . 


•«» 


'e^^ 


I  'i 


it  was  fat 
ut  delay ; 
Lure  coiQ' 
quietudes 
ey  would 


,  and  the 

ngthenetl 
the  final 
t:  had  felt 
ires  upon 
md  meo- 
nce  mor^ 
rrate  her 


■       ■      -V" 


M 


1:4 


«»tlo  >o  .'Yiun^      tv  a?»BfV 


1      NARRATIVE   BY   LOUISE  ' 


.i\ 


SJil 


[HH.H 


At  last,  while  bitter  tears  I  shed, 
To  ticaven  I  raised  my  prayer, 

And  found,  when  earthly  joys  are  fled, 
There  still  is  comfort  there. 


]    'ill.,    'ji  ;a5J) 


'.J. 


.''(-: 


</■ 


:;<  ir 


;'  'V  a/sy 

"  I  am  totally  ignorant — Louise  stated — of  my  pa 
lents,  my  birth-place,  and  my  age.  I  was  never  ad- 
dressed except  as  Louise;  and  never  permitted  to 
assume  any  name  but  Ijouise  M.  My  earliest  recollec- 
tion is  connected  with  Point  aux  Trebles.  I  re- 
member a  farmer's  wife  with  whom  I  lived  ;  and  also 
a  Nun,  who  often  canie  to  the  house,  and  engaged  my 
childish  attachment,  by  giving  me  trinkets  and  sweet- 
meats. I  was  early  taught  to  read,  write,  and  sew,  by 
this  Nun  ;  and  continued  there,  after  my  first  impres- 
g>ions,  al)out  four  years,  when  I  was  sent  to  the  Ursu- 
line  Nunnery  at  Quebec,  and  was  duly  instructed  in 
every  art  which  is  there  used.  My  old  friend  the  Nun 
i  saw  very  frequently  ;  out  as  I  grew  up,  she  appeared 
to  feel  little  or  no  interest  in  me.  I  made  tolerable 
proficiency,  and  was  declared  rather  tall  and  womanish 
for  my  age,  which  was  never  communicated  to  me. 
I  consider  myself,  however,  to  be  about  twenty  years 
old,  but  I  cannot  speak  with  precision. 

^'  It  is  now  nearly  five  years  ago,  thai  I  was  rcpiovei 


\x:^ 


^>' 


I 


f 


back  to  Poitit  aux  Tretnblesi  and  was  employed  for  twe- 
years  in  a  variety  of  offices  about  that  establisiimenl 
oftheReligieuses.  During  this  period^  my  mind  was 
in  constant  training  by  the  Nuns  and  the  Preftes.  The 
whole  course  of  the  ceremonies,  and  all  the  exact  rou- 
tine  of  the  forms  of  the  Missal,  I  attended  with  the 
most  scrupulous  regularity,  and  the  least  known  devia- 
tion would  have  made  me  wretched.  To  the  authority 
of  the  holy  church,  and  to  the  lofty  character  and  ffod- 
iike  power  of  the  Priests  to  command,  pardon,  save  and 
curse  the  people  here  and  forever,  I  bowed  down  with 
the  most  implicit  belief,  and  with  the  completest  submis-* 
sion ;  and  with  a  full  persuasion  that  in  complying 
w^ith  the  Pretre's  wishes,  I  wjis  fulfilling  i  he  law  of  God. 
Hints  were  often  give  me,  that  I  must  become  a  nun ; 
and  all  the  superior  virtue  and  wonderful  sanctity  of 
that  mode  of  life  were  constantly  set  before  me  in  the 
most  enchanting  colors.  The  ihird  year  of  my  resi- 
dence had  neaily  elapsed ;  and  it  was  proposed,  that  the 
next  year  should  be  devoted  by  me  to  all  thosQ  pursuit^^ 
which  would  enable  me  to  enter  upon  my  Noviciate, 
and  speedily  to  attain  the  honors,  as  they  impiously 
term  it,  of  the  "angelic"  life.  It  was  at  this  crisis, 
that  the  change  in  my  little  affairs  occurred  which  has 
been  so  cxterual'ly  afflictive,  and  so  consolatory  in 
heart.  , 


.^ 


^  «  ^  a  short  distance  from  the  convent,  resided  an 
old  decrepid  wonian  who  had  migrated  from  Guernsey. 
She  was  little  known  ;  and  her  age,  and  infirmities  and 
isolated  condition  excused  her  from  much  intercourse 


...■srai«5»!ss*<>*««*«w** 


-f^-r-mtst-z.'- 


wiih  tlie  neighboring^  people,  i  was  ofteu  sent  to  visit 
her,  to  inquire  into  her  condition,  and  to  carry  her  tri- 
fling  articles  of  clothing  and  food.  She  gradually  de> 
clined  ;  and  it  was  clearly  perceptible,  that  her  decease 
was  not  very  distant.  C)n  one  occasion  when  we  were 
alone — "  Ma  chere,  my  dear !  said  Marguerite-^I  hear 
bad  news  concerning  you."  "  \;>.f^  '    ;•'. 

"What  do  you  mean  !"  was  my  reply.  <  '    ^.'^ 

"I  am  told — she  continued — that,  you  are  going  into 
(he  nunnery,  after  a  little  while  ;  and  I  am  sorry  for  it." 

"Why? — I  asked — They  say  that  a  Nun  passes 
the  most  holy,  peaceful  and  heavenly  Ufe  possible." 

"  Ah  !  ma  chere,  my  dear — she  uttered  with  much 
feeling — vous  vous  etes  meprise,  you  are  intirely  mis» 
taken.  It  is  the  most  miserable,  and  the  most  guilty 
life  in  the  world."  ,  '    ..^ 

'■'-  J...  r,,;4. 

"  How  can  that  be  ? — I  inquired — What  do  you 
know  of  Convents?"  .  , , 

"  I  was  born  in  France— she  replied—l  have  seen 
much  of  the  world ;  and  if  you  will  not  tell  my  history 
Cb  any  person  until  after  I  am  buried,  you  shall  hear 
something  which  Marguerite  has  seen." 

The  promise  was  made.     « I  was  formerly  and  for 

many  yoars—tho  old  woman  informed  me~>a  menial 

4 


^I'M'iiiiaisuJjn 


■K'lnllTiiiaii.  ^, .., 


V         ' 


f.:  '  '^■** 


,/ 


46 

servant  about  a  convent  in  Finncc,  add  the  evila  wliicfi 
were  practised  within  iie  walls  exceed  all  belief.  At 
last,  I  began  to-  consider  whether  it  was  possible  for  a 
religion  to  be  true  and  from  God,  which  allowed  such 
wicked  doings.  Ah !  ces  Pretres  Jesuites—said  the 
emaciated  Christian,  with  nil  the  energy  which  she 
was  capable  to  exert— s'il  y  a  un  Diable  sur  la  terre, 
ceux-ci  le  sont.  Ah  !  those  Jesuit  priests ;  if  there  is  o 
devil  upon  earth,  they  are  he."  ,  ■. 

"  I  contrived-  to  leave  Normandy,  and  cross  over  to 
Guernsey  ;  and  there  i  resided,  until  I  came  to  thii; 
country.  I  have  been  among  tlie  same  people  in  Cana- 
da. They  are  all  alike,  not  quite  so  bad  here,  because 
they  are  more  scattered,  among  fewer  people,  easier 
noticed,  and  a  little  afraid  of  the  Protestant  Govern 
ment. 

"  My  prejudices — remarked  Louise— as  you  may 
well  suppose,  were  all  excited;  and  in  my  heart,  I 
wished  the  old  widow  every  possible  curse.  She .  saw 
my  opinions  in  my  wrathful  countenance,  and  allayed 
ray  anger  by  her  remarks — "  You  dislike  to  hear  these 
things  now — said  Marguerite — ^so  did  I  once.  1  had 
been  taught  by  my  Mother,  that  the  Priest  was  in  God's 
place ;  that  the  Pope  had  the  command  of  Heaven, 
^artb,  and  Hell ;  and  that  the  Abbes,  the  Cures,  and 
the  Pretres  must  be  feared  and  obeyed'  in  every  thingj 
or  we  should  be  miserable  in  this  world  avid  in  the  next 
Thus  I  grew  up  to  maturity,  as  docile,  and  as  submis< 
sive  to  the  PrieH  as  my  neighbors  \  and  like  them,  not 


,x^u^.. 


'■3   "  ' 


■'  -(?*8B*W3ir«:w----^ 


•^  ,1\_ 


I  — iwii^iM^ai  I 


liBWllicfi                ^1 

lief.    At            fl 

Ibie  for  a            1 

ved  suck           fl 

-said  the           ■ 

lich  sht            H 

la  terre,             ■ 

[lere  is  o             fl 

i  over  to              1 

)  to  thii-             fl 

n  Cana-             1 

because             ■ 

,  easier           4m 

Govern            |l 

:r| 

>u  may             ■ 

lieart,  I             1 

he  saw             ■ 

allayed             W 

ir  these              9 

]  had              1 

n  God's              1 
leaven,              1 

•es,  and             § 

'  things              ;; 

le  next 

mbmis'             M 

cm,  not    »        M 

IT 

less  self-willed  and  diaebedient  towards  God.  Wheft 
I  became  a  young  woman ;  I  went  into  the  service  <tf 
a  gentleman  who  never  went  to  Mass,  or  Confession. 
He  was  a  rich  man ;  and  the  Priest  allowed  him  a 
constant  dispensation  for  disobeying  all  the  laws  of  the 
Church  for  a  good  sum  of  money,  which  was  paid 
every  year.  I  have  often  heard  him  tell  among  his 
friends  when  they  visited  him,  in  what  way  the  Priests 
maintained  their  power  and  hood-winked  the  people^ 
It  is  almost  all  done  at  Confession,  and  through  the 
women.  Children  are  taught  from  their  infancy,  that 
all  persons  out  of  the  Church  will  be  accursed.  The 
boys  ai-e  retained  in  bondage,  by  ignorance,  or  fear,  ui' 
interest,  or  their  connections,  or  indifference,  or  corrupt 
tion  and  participation  in  crime ;  for  as  they  can  buy 
absolution  for  all  sins,  they  can  practise  every  vice,  and 
by  a  little  money,  or  by  serving  the  Priests,  they  can 
blot  out  all  the  account  against  them. 

"But  even  all  these  schemes  would  not  complete  the 
design,  without  the  aid  of  the  women.  They  are 
therefore  trained  with  all  care  into  passive  obedience  and 
non-resistance  to  the  Priest .  They  are  made  to  believe ; 
that  every  thing  is  true  which  he  says,  and  that  every 
t  hing  is  proper  which  he  desires.  This  dreadfully  wick- 
ed doctrine  is  sanctioned  by  the  assurance,  that  he  can 
pardon  every  sin ;  and  that  without  his  good-will,  no 
person  will  go  to  Heaven.  Under  this  influence,  the 
women  are  all  entangled.  The  Priest,  by  confessioni 
discovers  all  their  inclinations  and  thoughts.  He  then 
Aoldis  the  rod  over  them  to  force  them  to  his  own  tin*' 


".   rl 


•ifj 


t 


■    ■>£ 


'•V9^0^'''»"-** ' 


i 


godly  purposes.  Ah  f  ma  chore,  pieuo^  garde ;  my 
dear,  take  care.  Watch  around  you.  Look  at  every 
thing.  Do  not  be  afraid  to  examine  for  yourself 
Above  all  things,  never  become  a  nun.  In  my  coun- 
try, the  Pretres  could  tell  some  wonderful  stories  about 
the  convents ;  and  unless  I  am  mistaken ;  many 
a  dismal,  wicked,  and  bloody  history  would  be  found 
out  in  Canada ;  if  all  the  Priests  were  not  in  a  league 
to  help  each  other,  and  keep  their  mutual  secrets.  They 
ilrst  make  the  women  sinners,  and  then  so  frighten 
them,  tliat  they  dare  not  expose  their  scandalous  prac- 
tices. Once,  a  modest  young  woman  used  to  come 
here,  who  went  into  a  Nunnery  by  the  order  of  two 
Priests,  after  she  had  a  child  by  each  of  them.  What 
is  become  of  them,  I  never  could  hear ;  but  the  last 
time  I  saw  her,  she  was  one  of  the  worst  and  most  im- 
pudent creatures,  I  ever  heard  talk."  .   .!;;• 


1 1 


"At  this  partof  Marguerite's  narrative — said  Louise; 
my  attention  was  deeply  arrested  ;  for  I  fancied,  that  I 
could  perceive  a  resemblance  in  this  trait,  between  the 
Nun  who  so  many  years  before  had  been  so  kind  to 
me,  and  her  demeanor  at  our  last  interview.       ,   , , ., 


"The  feeble  Christian  woman  continued — "I  left 
the  Roman  Church  in  Guernsey — as  1  have  always 
been  ailing ;  and  nobody  canid  much  about  me,  I  have 
oontrived  to  live  here  without  being  discovered  and 
persecuted.     Ma  chere  !   my  dear,  how  old  are  you  1" 

"  To  this  question — remarked  Louise — I  could  only 
atTsfver — "I  have  never  heard,  I  cannot  tell." 


•fJ-'rfnT' 


4-sr 


'<  l^a  it  is  aa  I  have  long  suspected — added  Hat- 
guerite — mais  n'  importe,  no  matter.  You  are  just  now 
at  the  right  age^  and  bold  the  very  fittest  sentiments  to 
be  the  subject  for  a  Priest's  stratagem.  Hearken  to  a 
dying  woman  who  can  have  no  interest  in  deceiving 
you  ;  1  may  not  have  strength  or  another  opportunity 
to  give  you  my  advice.  When  a  Priest  ofiers  to  violate 
your  modesty,  whether  by  force,  or  by  enticement,  or  by 
his  pretended  priestly  authority,  or  by  JeKuitical  finesse ; 
attempting  to  persuade  you  that  vice  is  virtue,  or  to  pal- 
liate sin  under  the  pretext  uf°  his  power  to  absolve  you, 
and  his  ability  to  render  you  is  pure,  as  if  you  had 
never  known  defilement ;  I  ten  not  to  him  even  for  a 
moment.  Bear  all  privations ;  and  submit  to  every 
torture,  rather  than  voluntarily  yield  to  his  seductive 
wiles  or  his  menacing  intimidations.*' 

''I  was  so  shocked  at  these  insinuations — Louise  re- 
marked— that  I  could  scarcely  believe  my  ears,  or  ad- 
mit that  the  old  \vi<low  had  not  wandered  out  of  her 
senses  into  a  delirium.  When  1  had  recovered  from 
my  surprise  and  confusion  :  I  asked  her  tremulously, 
"is  it  possible  such  things  can  be  true  t"  '    .« ;rfjf  i?%<m:n 

"  As  true— Marguerite  replied — as  that  I  am  upon 
the  very  verge  of  eternity  ;  and  from  vfery  indistinct 
recollections  of  past  things,  which  you  have  brought 
afresh  to  my  mind ;  if  you  are  not  the  daughter  of  a 
Priest  and  a  Nun,  then  I  am  much  deceived."  <       u 

■   ^This  operated  upon  me— ^id  Louise-^like  a 


AVf' 


'»"«^*'  '^WHSfttfrw*-  r.* 


iiNrwiiS^^iii*  'ti»-. 


■>.  I,—  I  .  tiniijii  11   »-«««m»nip)| 


'V--      .-  *■  ■ 


I: 


charm ;  and  I  endeavored  to  dncover  the  secrets  con- 
nected with  n»y  infancy;  but  my  effort  was  vain. 
The  old  woman  either  knew  nothing  certain  upon  the 
subject ;  or  she  thought  it  preferable  not,  from  suepi- 
cbn  only,  to  expose  me  to  jeopardy  and  trouble." 

^^  Having  repeated  her  advice  and  warning  to  me  in 
a  mo8t  impressive  manner,  and  again  exacted  my  so- 
lemn promise  to  retain  her  secret — "  I  would  give  you, 
my  dear  ! — tiuiijoined  Marguerite — my  bible ;  but  now 
it  will  do  you  no  good.  You  could  not  read  and  keep 
it.  It  has  long  been  my  only  comfort,  as  it  first  also 
taught  me  the  way  of  piety  and  peace.  I  shall  leave 
it  to  the  orphan  child  whom  1  have  adopted,  with  all 
mv  other  trifles,  if  the  (Jure  steals  and  burns  the 
blessed  book,  his  shall  be  the  sin.  I  thank  God,  that  I 
was  enabled  to  place  the  l)oy  in  comtbit  in  Q,uebec« 
where  the  Priests  will  never  have  any  power  over  him. 
When  you  have  experienced,  as  I  foresee  you  will,  the 
fulfilment  of  my  worst  su£$picions ;  and  when  you  think 
of  your  present  religion  as  I  now  do  ;  if  you  can — 'and 
her  heart- melting  tones,  with  her  affecting,  pathetic  and 
tender  looks  will  never  be  forgotten — procure  a  New 
Testament.  O  read  it !  O  pray  for  wisdom  from  God 
to  understand  it !  and  you  will  do  as  I  have  long  ago 
done.  You  Will  burn  the  cru^sifix,  the  images,  the 
rosai'y  and  the  missal,  with  all  the  other  deceitful  relics 
of  idolatry ;  and  then  prepare  for  sorrow  and  persecution. 
But  stand  fast  in  your  purity — grasping  my  hand 
with  all  her  strength — and  God  will  deliver  you  !" 


HI 


V 


'M: 


"y*. 


■"■"■■iff* 


61 

*<  I  listened  to  Marguerite — said  Louise — with  great 
interest  Her  emaciated  appearance,  and  the  deep 
toned  pathos  and  solemnity  with  which  she  thus  un- 
veiled her  true  character ;  the  causes  of  the  change 
wrought  in  her  principles  and  conduct ;  the  personal 
application  of  subjects  to  myself  of  which  I  never  before 
had  formed  a  distinct  idea  ;  the  appalling  precipice  on 
which  she  represented  me  as  standing,  ready  to  plunge 
into  the  abyss  of  irrecoverable  degradation  and  crime ; 
the  new  light  in  which  all  that  I  had  deemed  sacred 
was  presented  to  me,  as  arrayed  in  the  most  depraved 
and  most  loathsome  deformity  ;  and  her  prophetic  cau- 
tions and  intimations  produced  a  complicated  thought- 
fulness  and  tremor,  which  I  had  never  before  reaUsed. 

''As  some  other  visitor  a|:)proached ;  she  took  my  hand 
again;  once  more  received  my  double  promise  to  retain 
her  secret,  and  watch  for  my  own  security  ;  and  there 
our  intercourse  ended. 


"Duringtheremainingdaysof  her  mortal  existence  no 
opportunity  occurreti  to  exchange  more  than  the  speak- 
ing features  and  our  united  hands  could  communicate, 
but  it  appeared  to  console  her.  The  little  that  she  ut- 
tered was  in  very  cautious  language ;  that  her  true 
religious  opinions  might  not  expose  her  to  vexation  while 
living,  and  her  mortal  remains  to  insult  after  her  spirit 
had  winged  its  flight  to  Paradise.  I  thought  even  then, 
that  her  expressions  differed  from  our  common  phrases ; 
but  blind  as  I  was,  like  all  the  people  there,  I  did  not 
comprehend  her  true  meaning  ;  now  I  think  (  under- 
stand what  she  intended.     When  she  spoke  of  repent- 


.*■ 


S2 

Mf6e  towards  God;  t  supposi^lhd^tid  dioh^  nil  ne^ 
pfenance.  She  talked  of  faith  in  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ, 
as  the  rock  of  her  hopes  ;  and  we  naturally  but  very 
^upidly  applied  it  to  the  Pope,  and  Peter,  and  the 
Tirgin  Mary.  When  she  mentioned  the  comfort  that 
she  felt  in  knowing  that  her  "transgressions  were  for- 
given, and  that  her  sin  was  covered  ;"  we  of  course  in- 
terpreted it  of  the  Pretre's  plenary  absolutioii.  She 
fold  us  of  "  seeing  Jesus  ;"  and  we  fancied  that  she  was 
Iboking  at  the  crucifix  ! — Ah  !  my  friends  ;  how  blind 
we  are,  who  are  thus  brought  up  urider  Roman  Priests? 
well  may  we  always  pray  :  "  O  Lord,  turn  us  from 
darkness  to  hght ;  open  our  eyes  that  we  may  behold 
wondrous  things  out  of  thy  law  !'l  "  ' 

"  Providentially  for  Marguerite,  the  Cure  was  absent 
<luring  the  last  days  of  her  existence ;  and  only  return- 
6d  in  time  to  administer  his  extreme  unctidn ;  when  the 
dying  believer  was  totally  unconscious  of  all  things 
external.  About  the  end  of  his  soul-deceiving  cere- 
mony, she  breathed  no  mwe. 


'  After  her  interment ;  her  Bible  was  found ;  and 
well  do  1  recollect  the  fury  which  it  produced.  The 
Cure  raged  like  a  madman  ;  and  his  silly  followers  all 
Vented  their  n^isy  execrations.  Marguerite's  hypocrisy 
and  heresy,  with  the  lamentations  of  her  neighbors  for 
their  kindness  vwA  attentions  to  the  helpless  and  dying 
heretic,  were  permanent  themes  of  discussion,  until 
time  alone  allayed  the  storm.  I  was  frequently  ques- 
tioned about  ht))'  Bible  by  the  Priest  and  Nuns :  but  I 


\\ 


,-.)f'-" 


Jl  needful 
usChrist, 
bat  very 
and  the 
mfort  that 
3  were  for- 
course  in- 
ioii.  She 
at  she  wag 
how  blind 
anPrieste? 
1  us  from 
ly  behold 


"  yicti- 


vas  absent 
ily  return- 
when  the 
all  things 
viug  cere- 


und;  and 
ed.  The 
lowers  all 
hypocrisy 
ghbors  foe 
ind  dying 
ion,  until 
ntly  ques- 
ins :  but  t 


53 

pleaded  perfect  ignorance  of  the  matter,  and  denied 
that  I  had  ever  teen  it,  which  was  true.     It  was  finally 
concluded,  that  what  a  Jesuit^  with  all  hii  eagle^yed 
and  sleepless  perspicacity,  and  Nuns,  with  all  their  ex- 
quisite cunning  craftiness,  could  not  discover,  would 
not  be  discerned  by  an  unsuspecting  girl,  who  had 
never  heard  of  la  sainte  Bible,  or  le  nouveau  Tes- 
tament ;    the   holy  Bible  or  the  New    Testament, 
"  Female  curiosity  powerfully  impelled  me ;  and  I  be- 
gan  to  feel  a  restless  uneasiness,  from  the  |n«>vel  sub^ 
jects  which  Marguerite  had  presented  to  my  contem- 
plation.    My  time  was  partly  appropriated  to  visitF 
umong  the  different  Nuns  in  Quebec ;  tSiat  I  might 
become  fully  initiated  in  all  the  routine  which  would 
devolve  upon  me,  when  I  was  placed  upon  my  Novici- 
ate.    The  scenes  which  I  witnessed  certainly  would 
7;ave  attracted  little  or  no  observation,  had  my  mind 
not  been  directed  to  watchfulness,  and  had  not  a  clue 
been  given  to  me  to  interpret  them ;  but  those  scenes 
gradually  corroborated  the  views  of  a  convent's  interior, 
which  the  widow  had  presented  to  me  in  her  repulsive 
picture  of  the  turpitude  of  Nunneries.     Being  consid 
ered  a&   completely  within  their  power ;  I  soon  was 
admitted  to  the  more  hidden  proceedings  of  these  ee 
cret  recesses  of  human  life.  ^ 

"  As  my  intercourse  became  more  familiar,  and  the 
reserve  of  novel  acquaintance  gradually  disappeared  ; 
my  convictions  of  the  truth  of  Marguerite's  statement 
became  not  only  more  definite,  but  stronger,  and  more 
abiding.    The  stately  prudishness  exhibited    before 

6 


n 


mmmmmmm 


■^ 


straDgera  was  Strikingly  contrasted  with  the  unseemly 
and  indecorous  levity  in  their  unobserved  and  private 
pursuits ;  and  the  sly,  leering,  licentious  Jesuit,  when 
conversing  with  a  Nun  alone,  or  with  the  two  Consoci- 
ated  sisters  who  occupied  the  same  apartment,  was  a 
very  different  individual  from  the  gloomy  and  motion- 
less featured  Pretre  in  the  streets,  and  at  the  altar. 

**  This  metamorphosis,  which  in  many  instances  I 
should  have  thought  impossible,  first  excited  my  suspi- 
cions. Watchfulness,  as  the  dying  woman  had  pre- 
monished  me,  soon  produced  incredulity.  In  the  sanc- 
tified exterior  of  the  Pretres ;  I  perceived  nought  but 
hypocritical  assumptions.  This  naturally  led  to  doubts 
respecting  the  boasted  super-excellence,  not  only  of  the 
actors,  but  of  their  system  of  priestcraft.  Still  I  believed 
sdl  their  doctrines  as  far  as  I  knew  them,  and  tacitly 
admitted  all  their  claims.  Amid  the  gorgeousness  of 
their  ceremonial,  and  the  consequent  intoxication  of  the 
senses,  I  generally  forgot  all  the  contradictory  realities, 
which  I  saw  enacted  behind  the  curtain,  where  the  mask 
was  discarded.  ^ 


I 


i  11 


'  "  Several  months  of  the  year  revolved  in  this  man- 
ner ;  the  greater  portion  of  which  I  can  only  describe, 
under  the  similitude  of  a  person  in  a  reverie  faintly  con- 
scious of  the  passing  exterior  scenes,  but  chiefly 
absorbed  in  his  own  mental  abstractions.       ^^  **'  ^^ 

■n  ''Thus  I  was  increasingly  impressed  with  the  ac 
curacy  of  Marguerite's  views ;  yet  I  could.not  have  cited 


''i      -    .  'I^'   •       •      ■■ "  ■ 

even  one  single  fact  distinctly  to  justify  my  inferences. 
The  circumstances  which  attracted  my  notice  were 
doubtless  enacted  before  me  as  a  decoy.  They  were 
disguised  under  such  en^aring  names,  and  so  extenu- 
ated, and  pruned  of  their  offensive  luxuriance,  thai 
often  I  condemned  my  harsh  suspicions,  which  flowed 
from  innate  feelings  of  propriety,  and  the  spontaneous 
dictates  of  natural  conscience. 

"I  was  providentially  extricated  from  this  vacillation 
of  mind  on  a  iide  from  duebec  into  the  country.  The 
Nuns  directed  me  to  reside  for  a  short  period,  under  the 
pretence  of  purer  air,  near  Jacques  Cartier.  A  female 
companion  attended  me,  whom  in  vain  I  attempted  to 
identify.  Her  voice  was  the  only  character  of  which 
I  could  retrace  any  memorial ;  but  as  that  is  so  decep- 
tive a  criterion  of  judgment,  I  quickly  decided  that  my 
fellow  traveller  was  a  stranger.  After  much  ordinary 
chit-chat,  the  Nun,  for  I  am  now  convinced  that  she 
Wds  one  of  them,  although  so  disguised  as  to  be  un- 
known, asked  me  some  questions  respecting  my  ideas 
of  a  conventual  l^fe,  my  age,  my  predilections,  and  my 
views  of  the  future.  I  replied  as  cautiously  and  inde- 
cisively as  I  possibly  could.  The  siren  pretended  to 
express  her  delight  at  my  good  sense,  bash  fulness,  and 
prudence;  and  kissed  me  in  approbation  of  my  opinions. 

'  "  After  a  short  period,  she  artfully  introduced  again 
my  wishes  about  the  Nunnery  ;  and  by  way  of  argu- 
ment, as  she  said,  she  would  state  the  objections  usual" 
\y  advanced  by  the  Heretics  to  a  convent|  and  ^  refuta- 


i!i<<^naMm'iimiiiimm^t»t»f$tMtni 


gps^" 


mmmm 


!'ii 


it  M 

I V 


:'^ 


(jon  of  them.  When  she  recapitulated  all  my  own 
ideas  upon  the  subjecti  I  was  surprised ;  but  her  answers 
were  extremely  weak  and  (Hvolous.  Shehowever  trium- 
phed in  the  ingenuity  of  her  replies,  and  the  greatnen  of 
her  superiority  to  the  opponents  of  a  monastic  hfe ;  and 
having  doubtless  presumed  that  her  preliminary  object 
was  efiected ;  she  asked  me—  "how  old  are  you, 
Louise?" 

"  I  know  not — was  my  reply — nor  can  any  person 
tell  me,  that  I  ever  yet  saw." 

'  <*  Let  me  look  at  you— she  rejoined  ;  and  turning 
back  my  hair  as  if  she  would  view  my  physiognomy— 
O  ho !  what  have  we  here ! — and  she  kissed  the  cross 
on  my  forehead — this  is  a  beautiful  mark,  and  proves 
y«u  to  be  a  true  daughter  of  our  Holy  Mother,  the 

church."  -'^Ui   1  i<:   -       . '  .  :.:■■■. 


»^i      :^5 


"  i  know  not — ^was  my  answer — who  imprinted 
that  cross,  nor  the  object  ibr  which  it  was  placed 
there."  "  ^ 

"  A  token  of  love,  child,  no  doubt — was  her  rejoin- 
der ;  casting  upon  me  a  most  expressive,  but  disgusting 
look,  which  made  me  blush,  for  I  was  filled  with 
shame — and  you  may  be  proud  to  wear  it.  But 
what  makes   ^u  blush  so  ?  were  you  ever  in  love '/" 

^   "I  returnee'  a  -negative  to  this  question  ;  with  which 
she  expressf  i  her  satisfaction,  cautioning  me  agaiqet 


1*. 


-     S.  .t     -iir'n  d  I     I   l\   |iirnT'"'*T' 


.    i>^  ,i>\>'-^-..<o-. 


i  turning 

^nomy — 
the  cross 

I^H 

id  proves 
her,  the 

j^^H 

mprintcd 
s  placed 

r  rejoin-    ^ 

isgusting 
ed   with    ' 

ii.     But 

lover 

mm 

th  which 

agalQst 

:1 

57 

.he  admission  of  any  unholy  predilection  for  wicked 
men,  as  inconsl'*- 1*  -  '\h  the  vows  of  th&  sisterhood. 
She  then  began  u  lo'  eulogy  upon  the  happiness  of 
residing  In  a  Convent;  where  pers«  ...^  ^ight  enjoy 
overy  pleasure  of  life  without  restraint,  unreproached, 
and  exempt  from  the  fear  of  discovery.  ■  i. 

'*  She  managed  this  most  difficult  part  of  her  under- 
taking with  great  address.  Her  eyes  were  fixed  upon 
me  with  very  intense  scrutiny.  She  analyzed  my 
feelings  with  the  utmost  accuracy,  from  the  involunta- 
ly  movements  of  my  countenance.  She  advanced^ 
letreated,  moved  around,  was  softened  or  emboldened, 
just  as  she  perceived  most  effectual.  Her  serpentine 
wiles  and  cautious  approaches  finally  convinced  me,  that 
this  was  c"  ^y  the  prelude  to  the  serious  drama,  in  which 
I  was  doomed  soon  to  be  a  chief  character ;  and  my 
promise  to  the  dying  Marguerite  recurred  in  all  its 
sanctity  and  efficacy.  The  consequent  composure 
depicted  on  my  countenance  completely  deceived  that 
female  seducer ;  for  she  mistook  the  calmness  of  shield- 
cd  purity,  for  the  tame  yielding  of  corrupted  virtue. 
Enough  was  unfolded  during  that  ride  to  convince  me, 
that  without  the  impediments  to  which  the  old  French 
woman  alluded,  and  even  with  them.  Monasteries  are 
the  earthly  vestibule  to  the  fearful  abodes  of  guilt  and 
eternal  despair.  From  that  time,  my  resolution  was 
fixed,  that  I  would  never  coxxunence  the  proposed 
!!"(oviciate 

"^  '^Thiee  days  did  the  anfiilcreatise  i^einiBii  withme 
.  5» 


1 1 


->^y 


S:'^^'^^^<^^i^>^>«'MH|Wii,^^a^^ 


»;^r»«»t»»i  Jtll0UHIfMfUtll!^-<f^^'Srr 


">      1 '    .   «■' 


{■» 


I 

I,  '^ 


at  a  houpe,  the  inmates  of  which  were  more  repulsive 
thait  my  heated  imagmation  had  depicted ;  from  the 
dialike  which  I  had  imbibed,  notwithstanding  her  flat- 
tering delineations.  There  I  first  saw  what  had  never 
before  existed  in  my  fancy.  Then  I  truly  felt  the 
reality  of  Marguerite's  aversion  to  a  pretended  religion, 
of  whifjji  such  human  monsters  were  the  accredited  dis- 
ciples and  teachers.  :;*f;*;!s:.    ;.  *<:::  aa-      "  ■' 

ft  "  After  a  short  period,  a  Pi-etre  entere'^  *he  scene;  and 
unless  my  anticipations  are  perfectly  bxu.  oious,  we  shall 
see  him  to-tnorrovv  at  Lorette — the  same  wretch  who 
on  the  other  day  denounced  you.  I  could  not  see  hw 
person  ;  but  the  tones  of  his  voice  are  too  strongly  en- 
graven upon  my  memory  ever  to  be  erased.  At  the 
house  whither  I  was  sent,  vf&te  two  females,  adepts  in 
every  species  of  vice.  All  their  artifices  were  directed 
to  undermine  my  innate  resbtance  to  their  assaults 
upon  my  principles.  Their  shameless  examples  were 
added  to  their  other  efforts.  •  When  they  were  alone 
with  me  and  the  Priest,  every  attempt  was  made  to  in* 
duce  me  to  join  in  their  disgusting  familiarities  with 
him.  Invariably  did  I  refuse,  and  although  it  was  im 
possible  to  hinder  or  to  escape  from  the  Pretre's  impu- 
dent blandishments,  yet  the  solemn  purposes  of  my  soul 
became  continually  more  stern.  .mMmi<,im  -^^^r 

t  «  The  arguments  which  the  Priest  and  his  associates 
Used  to  extirpate  my  delicacy,  only  served  to  refine  and 
strengthen  it ;  and  I  easily  adopted  Marguerite's  con- 
cIi|8ion,  that  a  rdigion  which  permitted  and  justified 


/■i 


-«■-*• 


■  f 


fr"  'Tsr 


•^^ri;^::-- 


.tM 


auch  flagrant  violatious  of  all  that  is  pure  and  consci- 
entiouB ;  which  can  suborn  agents  to  seduce  innocence, 
and  insnare  the  weak ;  which  sanctifies  vice,  d^rades 
virtue,  and  confounds  all  moral  distincticMis,  was  in- 
curably  corrupt.  Not  that  I  had  any  right  to  iu  for  from 
the  conduct  of  a  few,  that  the  whole  body  were  trans- 
gressors ;  but  as  I  bec&me  gradually  more  initiated  into 
their  secret  mysteries,  I  perceived  that  which  was  good 
disappear,  and  that  which  was  only  evil,  to  sway  the 
sceptre.  /    ' 

"  Having  been  thus  instructed  in  my  first  lesson  ;  at 
the  end  of  a  moi^h,  I  was  sent  to  duebec,  to  learn 
some  additional  rules  in  this  hopeful  science.  What 
I  saw  and  heard  ;  and  what  it  was  intended  I  should 
believe,  and  when  called  upon  practise,  must  remain 
a  secret.  One  thing  rather  astonished,  but  yet  pleased 
me  ;  neither  the  Superior  nor  the  Religieuses  ever  ad- 
verted to  the  topic  of  my  Noviciate.  During  this  period 
the  life  of  a  Nun  was  gilded  over  in  its  most  beauteous 
array  ;  and  I  should  most  certainly  have  been  insnared, 
had  I  not  been  influenced  by  Marguerite's  dying  com- 
munication. That  enabled  me  to  pierce  behind  the 
gaudy  attractive  scenes ;  and  in  the  familiarity  of  all 
that  confidence  which  two  of  them  dared  to  exhibit,  I 
beheld  the  corroding  worm  which  devoured  all  their 
tisefulness  and  peace.  > 


'^ 


i.m 


■2  "  I  was  designedly  admitted  to  the  retired  hours  and 
occupations  of  most  of  the  Nuns.  Some  were  fasti- 
diously reserved ;  othera  acted  their  part  throughout  > 


•(.>  ■ 


rmminwmmmmtifit 


HlUfl  II -JIM 


*!»••■' 


'  '^     >. 


i^' 


00 

some  privately  displayed  their  genuine  tempers ;  bat 
two  only  candidly  unveiled  those  living  tombs  of  good- 
ness  and  virtue,  and  those  dread  sepulchral  abodes  of 
hypocrisy  and  poUutbn.  I  perceived,  that  a  mcifNutic 
life  is  a  complete  masquerade,  in  which  ail  the  charac- 
ters are  either  devotees  of  vice,  or  skeletons  of  misery  ; 
but  all  without  dignity,  or  goodness,  or  comfort ;  where 
all  the  glories  of  which  they  boast  are  entirely  un- 
known. 


''  At  the  commencement  of  the  last  montli  of  my  pro- 
hationary  3rear  ;  about  twenty  days  before  I  first  saw 
you ;  I  was  again  remanded  to  the  country.  Who 
was  my  companion  on  that  occasion  I  know  not ;  if 
she  Was  the  same  woman  as  on  the  former  journey, 
then  there  is  no  exteiior  appearance  which  she  could 
not  conceal  or  counterfeit. 


■■m 


''  We  started  from  Quebec,  to  my  utter  surprise  and 
dread,  in  the  afternoon,  in  a  large  covered  carriole. 
Which  way  we  travelled,  where  we  stopped,  or  at  what 
hour  of  the  night  we  arrived,  I  can  form  no  idea.  Some 
time  after  dark,  a  Pretre  entered  the  carriole  as  if  trav- 
elling the  same  road ;  and  the  conversation  soon  as- 
sumed a  most  repulsive  character.  I  presently  com- 
plained of  fatigue,  and  composed  myself  as  if  for  sleep, 
anxious  to  unravel  their  plot.  Nothing  occurred  to  at- 
tract my  notice,  until  after  the  female  had  examined 
me  ;  and  ascertained,  as  she  concluded,  that  I  was 
^leep.     Curiosity  alone  kept  me  quiet,  while  I  hcBrd 


♦   .A'.'*-* 


,  i 


'H 


61 


them   explain  the  whole  mystery  ;-  for  the  closing 
scene  waH  now  to  be  enacted. 


4  u.       I.      ■% 


"  It  appeared,  that  this  was  the  identical  Pretre  with 
whom  I  had  been  so  disgusted  at  Jacques  Cartiersj 
that  we  were  then  going  to  his  house ;  that  I  was  to  be 
introduced  under  some  fictitious  character,  if  I  could 
not  be  altogether  concealed  ;  and  that  of  course,  I  woe 
to  be  the  slave  of  his  will,  until  the  time  appointed  for 
the  commencement  of  my  Noviciate,  when  I  was  to  be 
transferred,  like  others  who  had  passed  through  the 
same  guilty  path,  to  the  convent ;  and  as  it  would  be 
useless  afterwards  to  complain,  the  life  of  a  Nun  would 
be  preferred  by  me,  as  by  iheir  former  victims,  to  their 
malevolence  and  persecution.  The  mtist  shocking 
part  of  all  this  infamous  arrangement  was  this ;  that 
the  Pretre's  atrocious  purpose,  in  case  of  necessity, 
was  to  be  accomplished  by  every  extremity  of  violence. 
We  eventually  arrived  at  a  spot  where  the  Priest  left  us ; 
and  after  some  distance,  we  alighted  at  a  house,  and 
there  passed  the  remainder  of  the  night.  •/  ^i^^ 

V.     •  ■  -   .  -.^i:   .:  J.i:,  -.■;   fe 

<<  On  the  following  day,  after  a  considerable  ride,  my 
female  companion  and  myself  entered  u  church,  and 
upon  a  signal  being  given  to  her,  we  proceeded  to  the 
sacristy,  which  was  immediately  fastened  from  without ; 
and  by  a  private,  if  not  generally  unknown  avenue, 
we  passed  into  the  Priest's  habitation.  IVhen  I  saw 
him,  remembering  their  conversation  of  the  night 
before,  and  reflected  up<m  Marguerite,  and  her  strange 
prediction ;  my  heart  sunk  within  me,  and  I  was  ready 


■  i, 


r-    i 


\  : 


i  62 


(0  surrender  all  hope.  But  when  I  was  in  iho  room 
where  they  ordered  me  to  disrobe,  I  endeavored  to  pray 
unto  Qod,  through  Jesus  Christ,  in  words  of  my  own- 
It  was  the  first  time  I  had  ever  done  so ;  and  1  was 
supported.  Marguerite'b  last  words  ruuhed  into  my 
mind — "  stand  fast  in  your  purity,  and  God  will  deliv- 
er you" — and  I  resolved,  through  Divine  assistance,  to 
abide  every  trial,  rather  than  thus  to  be  sacrificed  by 
those  panders  of  iniquity.  The  odious  hag  remained 
about  four  days.  Alt  that  ingenuity  could  devise  was 
attempted,  to  induce  my  compliance  with  the  Pretre's 
desire.  When  coaxing  failed,  every  nienace  which 
revenge,  authority  and  ilisappnintment  could  denounce, 
was  not  less  inetfectually  applied.  She  finally  left  me 
completely  in  the  power  of  a  monster,  of  whose  nefa- 
rious designs,  unawares  to  them,  i  had  become  fully 
apprized.  -■  ■    .      >  '   i  • 


'  "  Several  days  he  tormented  me  with  his  wicked  pro- 
posals and  forced  caresses.  He  adduced  all  the  varied 
deceptions  which  Marguerite  had  detailed.  He  boasted 
of  the  authority  of  his  Church,  the  blessedness  of  his 
absolution,  the  comfort  of  enjoying  a  Priest's  favor, 
and  the  satisfaction  of  a  Nun's  life,  with  its  glorious 
reward.  His  blasphemy  repelled  me  as  much  as  his 
obscenity.  My  reply  was  short,  but  peremptory—^**  I 
will  never  consent  to  your  base  design." 


v'H   > 


•  "  On  the  eighth  day  after  the  woman  who  conducted 
me  had  left  us,  a  letter  was  delivered  to  me,  written  by 
the  same  person  who  has  addressed  yoa  this  evening. 


y*i^' 


)■'...' 


63 


The  substance  uf  U,  aa  you  may  easily  suppose,  was  (o 
persuade  me  to  submit  to  the  Priest's  wishes ;  for  he 
would  have  his  way,  and  longer  resistance  would  only 
make  it  the  more  painful  for  me.  It  was  closed  in  the 
very  same  words — "  Do  not  offend  the  Priests.  Be- 
lieve what  ihey  tell  you.  Do  just  as  they  say  ;  and 
all  will  yet  he  well."  Durin|f  two  or  three  following 
days  he  desisted  from  his  importunities,  but  he  piiU 
distressed  and  insulted  me  with  his  pretended  en^'^^ar- 
ments.  He  was  allowing  me  not  only  un  opportu- 
nity to  consider  the  contents  of  the  letter,  but  also  to 
be  assured  from  the  testimony  of  my  eyes  and  ea.  ;,  ac- 
cording to  Marguerite's  debasing  account  that  .'ouag 
women  and  those  of  our  sex  who  possess  any  influence 
in  society  are  often  merely  unconscious  instraments  to 
execute  the  Cu  re's  designs.  The  females  doubtless  sup- 
posed, that  they  and  the  Pretre  ^ere  concealed  from 
all  huiuun  observation  ;  yet  the  grossest  acts  of  disso- 
luteness were  performed,  where  I  could  not  but  under- 
stand them,  expressly  to  influence  my  mind  to  yield  to 
the  impression,  that  as  these  private  matters  could  not 
be  suspected,  and  much  less  known  t.  i*  e  world,  they 
produced  no  disgrace,  and  therefore,  that  it  was  folly, 
and  useless  for  me,  not  to  conform  to  v/hat  was  obviously 
general  and  established  usage.  .    ^    i 

"  Four  or  five  days  before  you  found  me,  the  Pretre 
was  visited  by  some  of  the  Habitans,  to  whom  he  com 
municated,  that  on  the  following  Sunday,' immediately 
after  Mass,  he  should  goto  Quebec  on  business  of  im 
portance  to  the  Church ;  that  he  should  not  return  until 


i- 


'i 


iN 


m'm 


^i;^hr-- 


m*^ 


I 

lit 


\ 

i! 


\  i 


J' 


I  n 


ai; 


64 

Ihe  day  before  the  festival,  and  that  tie  should  leave  a 
nwman  named  Guise,  to  take  care  of  his  house.  From 
that  time  until  the  following  Saturday,  I  suffered  every 
variety  of  anguish.  His  conduct  was  indescribable.  By 
craftyallurementsatone  time,  by  the  most  intimidating 
threats  at  another,  by  urging  the  duty  of  obedience  to 
Ills  priestly  authority,  and  by  reminding  me  of  the 
scenes  and  examples  which  my  situation  had  compel- 
led me  to  witness :  sometimes  insulting  me  with  his 
indecent  familiarities ;  and  at  other  times,  almost  pro- 
ceeding to  the  brutal  violence  of  superior  force — so  that 
upon  one  occasion,  had  I  not  been  endowed  with  unu- 
sual energy  to  resist  his  assault,  he  would  have  consum- 
mated his  horrid  purpose.  I  had  no  rest  by  day,  and 
was  afraid  to  sleep  by  night,  as  the  ruffian  was  always 
on  the  watch  to  take  advantage  of  any  moment,  when 
I  was  unprepared  to  repel  his  atrocious  attempts. 
".'<■.-  .  ,    '       '     • 

He  had  appointed  the  Saturday  evening  for  his  tool 
to  arrive,  that  he  might  direct  her  how  to  act  during  his 
absence.  When  she  appeared,  my  whole  soul  abhorred 
her  sensual,  witch-like  countenance.  She  was  well  tu- 
tored for  the  task.  I  Wcis  represented  to  be  a  girl  out 
of  her  mind ;  who  had  been  sent  to  him  by  a  family 
relative,  to  provide  an  asylum  fur  me  in  Quebec,  and 
that  WHS  the  reason  of  his  journey.  He  also  stated; 
that  I  was  perfectly,  inoffensive  and  peaceable  ;  and 
only  commanded  her  carefully  to  watch  me.  The 
minions  of  his  wickedness  pleaded  that  she  could  not 
stay  in  the  house  alone.  "  I  shall  be  scared  out  of  my 
wits  too— said  Guise — ^your  reverence  must  let  rpe  go 


\^ 

iff 


.  \ 


.iii^',. 


',-  f. 


Id  leave  a 
J.  From 
red  every 
table.  By 
imidating 
edience  to 
ne  of  the 
d  compel- 
with  his 
most  pro- 
5 — so  that 
vith  unu- 
e  consum- 
'  day,  and 
as  always 
ent,  when 
pts. 

)r  his  tool 

during  his 

abhorred 

IS  well  tu- 

girl  out 

a  family 

ebec,  and 

o  stated; 

ule ;  and 

16.     The 

could  not 

aut  of  mv 

et  me  go 


•m 


H. 


65 

^Way  at  night.    I  will  take  care  that  the  poor  girl 
shall  do  no  harm." 

"  This  protlnccd  a  long  altercation,  but  the  Pretrc 
finally  was  obliged  to  consents  He  supposed  that  I  was 
ignorant  of  this  arrangement ;  and  prestiming  upoi^ 
his  power  over  me,  and  the  safety  of  the  dungeon 
in  which  1  vas  immured,  for  the  only  window  in  the 
room  was  effectually  barred  without,  so  as  to  preclude 
all  escape  ;  he  perceived  no  other  mode  to  retain  his 
prisoner,  tlian  by  complying  with  Guise's  obstinacy. 
To  have  confided  the  secret  of  my  presence  even  to 
his  Sacristan,  was  fraught  with  the  greatest  risk ;  as  ma- 
ny of  the  Seigniors,  although  they  nominally  adhere  to 
tlie  church,  are  known  secretly  to  despise  their  ceremo- 
nies, and  to  abhor  the  priests ;  and  through  a  man's  un 
willingness  to  aid  in  tlie  infliction  of  unalterable  misery 
upon  a  young  woman,  which  might  be  communicated 
to  the  Seignior,  the  Sacristan  could  not  be  trusted. 
He  contrived  to  despatch  the  woman  away,  under  some 
pretext,  in  the  evening,  and  then  disclosed  all  his  base 
design.  He  was  going  to  Quebec  ;  and  while  there, 
he  should  arrange  the  plan  for  my  removal  to  the  Nun- 
nery speedily  after  the  holidays.  "  I  shall  return  next 
Tuesday — said  the  Pretre — and  remember — uttering  a 
most  dreadful  execration,  with  a  petrifying  look  of  ma- 
lignant sensuality,  which  even  now  fills  me  with  horror 
— even  if  you  die,  that  night  you  shall  be  mine." 

^'Never — I  angrily  replied — upon  no  pretext,  through 

6 


x 


i' 


.4 


>■  . 


-  ■  .--..,v  ' 


tiss^ 


t- 


V. 


I     ' ) 


66  -     . 

no  artifice,  by  no  force,  will  I  yield  myielf  to  your 
desires." 

"  He  merely  added — "  Nous  verrons,  we  shall  see"— 
and  left  me.  The  loathed  Guise  was  my  companion 
for  the  night. 

"  In  my  dreaming  drowsinessi  as  well  as  when  I  was 
fully  awake,  my  head  was  filled  with  manoeuvres  and 
contrivances.  My  roving  imagination  pondered  upon 
every  variety  of  stratagem,  by  which  I  might  avoid  the 
calamity  that  impended  over  me.  My  aversion  to  the 
Nunnery  became  an  additional  incentive ;  and  I  resolved 
never  again  to  enter  that  polluted  woful  region,  unless  by 
'  force.  I  frequently  was  startled  in  the  night  to  rational 
recollection,  from  the  strong  excitement  of  my  mind ;  but 
1  could  retrace  nothing,  except  an  indistinct  comfortable 
feeling,  which  encouraged  a  hope  of  yet  eluding  the 
Pretre's  grasp. 

"  This  expectation,  however,  was  quelled,  when  in 
the  morning  I  discovered,  that  every  article  of  my  cloth- 
ing had  disappeared  except  my  house  dress.  Conse- 
quently, even  if  it  were  possible  to  fly,  the  coldness  of 
the  weather  would  speedily  terminate  my  sorrows ;  and 
I  shuddered  at  the  idea  of  freezing  to  death.  "While 
the  Priest  and  his  imp  were  at  mass,  I  made  a  discov 
ery  which  became  the  main  spring  of  my  elopement. 
Guise  had  arrived  the  night  before  in  her  usual  com- 
mon clothes,  having  brought  her  extra  Sunday  apparel, 
The  same  bonnet  and  cloak  which  vou  found  with 


■*■  **•  * 


4^. 


slf  (0  your 
companion 


^hen  I  was 
suvres  and 
lered  upon 
t  avoid  the 
Bion  to  the 
]  I  resolved 
,  unless  by 
to  rational 
mind ;  but 
)mfortable 
iding  the 

when  io 
my  cloth* 
Conse- 
coldness  ol 
ows;  and 
.     While 

a  discov 
lopement. 
iual  com- 
y  apparel, 
und  with 


m 


67 

ibis  shawl  and  the  moccasons,  were  laid  aside,  no 
doubt,  to  be  resumed  on  Monday.  As  soon  as  mass  was 
finished,  the  Pretre  de^mrted.  .^1  heard  him  direct  Guise 
to  take  care,  when  she  left  the  house  in  the  evening, 
not  to  go  away  very  early,  to  leave  no  candle,  and  to 
be  careful  thai  the  outside  door,  and  the  door  leading 
to  the  sacristy,  and  especially  the  entrance  to  the  stair 
case,  were  all  safely  locked  and  bolted ;  so  that  my 
dungeon  should  be  secure.  As  h^*  went  out  of  the 
room  to  hirt  carriole,  he  cast  his  gloating  eyes  upon  nie, 
and  having  said — "Au  revoir" — to  my  inexpressible 
delight,  the  Jes^uit  and  one  of  his  young  dependaute 
drove  off,  and  soon  disappeared. 

''  I  had  hoped  to  have  made  use  of  the  woman  in 
some  mode  to  aid  my  design  ;  bur.  she  was  not  less  in- 
tractable towards  me,  than  obstinate  with  the  Priest. 
When  I  spoke  to  her,  she  would  look  ut  me  with  dis- 
dain— "  Pauvre  miserable,  poor  wretch" — this  was  her 
sde  reply.  I  attempted  to  soften  her  by  kind  and 
flattering  language,  but  all  was  ineffectual.  She  mut- 
tered to  herself  in  soliloquy ;  avowing  her  unwilling- 
ness to  stay  after  dark;  her  wish  to  have  a  man 
in  thft  house;  and  a  number  of  other  siiitilar  com- 
plaints. When  she  paused ;  I  would  interpose  and  de- 
clare ;  '*  You  must  not  go  away.  You  must  not  leave 
me.  If  any  persons  come  to  the  house,  I  will  go  out 
to  them — I  will  not  stop  here  by  myself." 

"To  comfort  and  deceive  me,  as  she  thought,  she 
would  reply — "  1  will  stay  with  you.  I  will  lock  all 
the  doors  early  at  night.     We  will  take  a  long  sleep." 


1 


^: 


i^""- 


'^';i.* 


!i   ii^ 


i 


h  I 


68 

'•  I  perceived  her  artifice,  but  it  fully  answered  my 
purpose.  Several  persons  came  to  the  Priest's  house 
in  the  afternoon.  I  was  thrust  into  my  own  apart- 
ment ;  but  as  Guise  suspected  that  I  should  be  lidten- 
ing,  she  avowed  her  intention  of  staying  all  night,  and 
also  of  procuring  some  woman  of  the  neighborhood  to 
keep  her  company.  After  some  of  her  visitors  had  re- 
tired, I  heard  her  move  towards  my  door,  1  pretended 
to  be  asleep,  as  she  came  into  the  room.  Convinced 
that  I  was  insensible  to  their  conversation,  upon  her 
jeturn  to  her  companions,  I  heard  her  promise  a> 
man  to  accompany  him  to  a  great  dance,  which  was 
to  be  held  that  evening  about  three  miles  distant.  He 
engaged  to  bring  his  carriole  at  eight  o'clock,  and  drive 
her  back  by  day-lighjt.  i    ,.  ' 

"  When  all  her  associates  had  left  her ;  Guise  began 
to  make  her  preparations  for  the  night.  She  filled  the 
tire-place  with  w(X)d  ;  and  arranged  every  little  conve- 
nience, in  case,  as  she  said,  I  should  want  any  thing  in 
the  night.  I  was  delighted  to  find  that  the  bread  wait 
not  removed  out  of  the  sitting  room ;  and  that  she 
seemed  to  have  forgotten  her  common  dress.  You 
must  remember  that  the  Sunday  afternoon  was  stoi;|ppy  ; 
and  this  furnished  Guise  with  an  excuse  for  retuing 
to  rest  at  an  early  hour.  The  bells  of  the  passing  car- 
rioles, I  suppose,  were  the  signal  by  which  she  pro- 
posed that  we  should  lay  down  for  the  night.  Sh«^ 
had  disposed  a  pallet  for  herself  in  the  exterior  room ; 
and  when  I  had  noticed  the  exact  place  of  the  va- 
rious articles,  I  partially  disrobed,  and  apparently  re- 
signed myself  to  sleep.    After  a  short  period,  suppa 


"/', 


*. 


3red  my 
's  house 
n  apart- 
e  lidten- 
g:ht,  and 
rhood  to 
I  had  re 
retended 
nvjnced 
pon  her 
3mise  Q) 
ich  was 
lit.     He 
id  drive 


B  began 
lied  the 
conve- 
hing  in 
ad  wa& 
lat  she 
You 
torjpy; 
retiring 
ng  car- 
^e  pro- 

room; 
he  va- 
itly  re- 
suppo- 


■3ing  me  to  be  unconscious  of  her  plans ;  she  cautiously 
lighted  the  candle,  and  approaching  my  bed,  as  she 
perceived  no  symptoms  of  waketulness — "  Pauvre  mis- 
erable !  poor  wretch  !". — said  the  callous  miscreant,  for 
now  1  have  no  doubt  that  she  was  privy  to  the  whole 
conspiracy  ;  and  then  began  to  array  herself  for  the 
frolic.  By  the  reflection  of  the  light,  I  soon  ascertain* 
ed,  that  her  meaner  apparel  was  still  where  she  first 
had  laid  it,  and  that  she  was  ready  to  depart.  She  did 
not  wait  long  before  a  slight  knock  at  the  door  intima- 
ted the  arrival  of  her  partner.  She  then  filled  the 
stove,  secured  it  from  danger,  surveyed  all  the  doors, 
once  more  examined  me,  and  then  withdrew,  locking 
me  in,  to  dark  ness,  silence,  and  solitude  Surely  nothing- 
but  Divine  goodness  and  mercy,  and  the  hope  that  my 
plan  to  escape  would  succeed,  supported  me  at  that 
fearful  moment.  My  heart  sunk  down  like  lead  within 
me,  when  I  heard  the  external  door  closed,  and  the 
carriole  driven  away ;  thus  leaving  me,  as  it  were,  in^ 
tombed  alive  in  that  above-ground  sepulchre.  I  hastily 
arose, commended  myself  to  God's  protection  in  broken, 
but  sincere  and  earnest  prayer ;  and  felt  inspired  with 
the  resolution  to  seize  the  opportunity  of  escape,  and 
visk  all  consequences ;  as  I  conceived,  that  no  possible 
evil  could  befal  me,  worse  than  the  calamity  with 
which  the  Jesuit  threatened  me. 

"  The  carrioles  continued  to  pass  for  awhile ;  aftet 
which  a  tiresome,  appalling  dreariness  almost  benum- 
bed my  faculties,  and  made  me  hesitate  respecting 
#1©  fulfilment  of  my  intention.    Amid  the  stillness  of 

a* 


Uhi*a?'»i!*»»w***iM*'? '■ 


i-^i  iniw I  .itfi3\\0mm»,.m> 


!   I 


die  night,  and  the  exercises  of  impatient  alarm,  it  is  im^ 
possible  to  calculate  the  progress  of  time.  Its  first  sen- 
sible lapse  that  I  reali7.ed,  was  in  the  feeling  of  chilli- 
ness, for  the  fire  had  gradually  subsided,  and  it  wae 
necessary  ta  increase  the  heat.  This  stimulated  my 
nerves,  and  I  began  to  recover  fortitude  for  the  dan- 
gerous effort.  The  window  of  the  sitting-room  was 
not  secured  by  a  srrate,  and  by  it,  I  hoped  to  escape. , 


M 


"  The  scene  without  was  not  only  sombre,  but  ter- 
rific. The  moon  had  set  for  some  time,  and  I  there- 
fore knew  that  it  must  be  considerably  past  midnight. 
The  wind  was  sufficiently  stmng  occasionally  to  drift 
the  snow,  and  every  thing  declared  the  impossibility  ol 
surviving  the  night  in  the  open  air.  After  repeated 
surveys,  I  ascertained,  that  there  would  be  little  diffi- 
culty to  reach  the  ground,  with  the  help  of  the  bed 
coverings  securely  tied ;  as  the  flat,  according  t©  the 
country  custom,  was  only  a  few  feet  high.  I  put 
on  Guise's  trappings,  and  employed  myself  leisurely  in 
forcing  open  the  window  shutter  which  had  been  fas- 
tened without,  and  in  securing  the  means  of  descent ; 
ns  I  resolved  to  postpone  my  actual  departure,  until  i 
could  perceive  a  fire  in  onv^  of  the  surrounding  habita- 
tions ;  because  I  knew  that  Guise  would  not  leave  the 
IVolic  until  nearly  day-Kghl.  While  thus  engaged, 
and  anxiously  watching,  a  carriole  drove  up  near  to 
the  house,  and  I  indistinctly  discovered  three  persons^ 
approaching  tho  entrance.  -.     >-.«**».., 

♦if  "iV,  ahoit  conver,*atiQn  ensued.    They  were  consult- 


%x^' 


A« 


...~i'i 


•«--^ 

"i:.?i'-' 


■'^r 


n 

lag  upoD  the  expedieacy  of  purloining  the  Priest's 
treasure;  and  as  he  was  away,  and  discovery  impossi- 
ble, it  was  determined  that  they  would  make  the 
attempt.  I  knew  not  how  to  decide.  A  moment  only 
was  left  for  deliberation.  1  resolved  to  trust  to  theiv 
honor,  and  request  their  aid  to  effect  my  escape.  The 
doors  were  speedily  opened,  and  two  young  men  hur- 
ried up  the  stairs.  They  possessed  a  concealed  light, 
and  upon  entering  my  room,  were  alarmed  at  seeing  me. 
One  of  them  rushed  upon  me,  and  threatened  me  with 
instant  death,  if  I  made  any  noise.  I  threw  back  my 
bonnet,  and  when  instead  of  Guise,  he  perceived  a 
young  woman  alone — "  Tres  bien  ! — said  he— very 
well ;  here  is  a  good  prize  for  us ;  the  Pretre  con  trivets 
to  pick  out  good  company — who  are  you  ?" 

"  I  am  a  stranger — was  my  reply — decoyed  here  for 
a  bad  design ;  and  was  just  going  to  escape  out  of  the 
window,  when  I  heard  your  carriole  approach.  Only 
aid  my  flight  from  this  place.  I  will  not  tell  your 
a-ecret." 


tii 
■^1^ 


'•  Bon  !  good — he  replied,  addressing  his  corapanicm 

-we  always  thought  the  Cure  had  a  good  reason  for 

never  permitting  a  visitor  to  go  up  aiuxa.    So  this  is 

his  female  department.    We  will  spoil  the  old  coquin's 

tricks,  for  awhile." 

"  I'hey  easily  discovered  and  secured  the  Pdest^s 
xmuey.  He  who  first  saw  me,  then  took  me  by  %h^ 
arm— "Vite!-- ^id  he— il  faut  partir;  Ciiiick!  we 
rmtstgo."     ...  _  ,^.j 


*•! 


72 

*'  I  know,  not  bow  I  demeDded  the  statir-case.  We 
entered  the  carhoie,  and  he  drove  away-to  &  short  dis- 
tance, where  we  could  be  concealed' from  n^ice.  He 
added — "  11  faut  s'urreter  ici  un  peu  ;  we  must  wait 
here  a  little." 

^'Our  contract  was  soon  made.  He  promised  to 
drive  me  as  far  ati  be  could  go  with  his  horse,  before 
the  afternoon;  and  as  I  knew  neither  him  nor  his  com- 
panions,  and  so  dreaded  all  discovery,  tliey  feared  no 
exposure  from  nie.  Suddenly  a  blaze  of  light  appear- 
ed— **il8  ont  raiaon ;  tl>ey  are  right — said  my  ;guai'' 
dian — Guise  will  be  blamed  for  the  yrhole  misfortune." 

"It  is  impossible  to  say  what  I  felt,  when  I  turned 
and  saw  my  prison  on  fire.  Two  young  men  instantly 
rejoined  us.  A  short  circuit  was  made  that  con- 
ducted us  back  into  the  direct  road  which  led  from  the 
house  where  tbe  dance  was  held ;  and  immediately 
they  began  to  vociferate,  "  Fire !  fire ! " — They  ran  to 
the  houses  to  awaken  the  neighboring  inhabitants. 
The  carriole  passed  the  Church,  and  remained  station- 
ary at  a  short  distance  from  the  scene.  The  Sacristan 
soon  rang  the  alarm-bell.  All  the  affrighted  habitans 
Mamed  Goise  jforthe  fire;  because  every  door  was  safe, 
and  an  entrance  was  only  made  by  force.  The  Pre- 
tre's  furniture  which  was  unburnt  was  thrown  into  the 
road,  and  the  house  was  completely  emptied.  Within 
a  few  minutes  from  the  ringing  of  the  bell,  moving 
lights  were  seen  in  every  direction — "  AlIoDs!  come" — 
said  our  Charioteer.  His  confederates  immediately 
returned.     They  had  only  waited  to  see  the  house  gnr- 


■?% 


ted  by  the  Sacristan  and  his  helpers.  As  soon  as  the 
acreaming  crowd  from  the  dance  arrived  near  the  spot, 
we  commenced  travelling  at  a  rapid  rate  away  from 
the  vile  Cure's  prison."     ^.  .. 

"  What  direction  we  went,  I  know  not ;  nor  was  it  of 
any  consequence.     The  only  intirnt.tion  which  I  had 
of  our  course  was  from  the  first  streak  of  day  appearing 
nearly  in  front  of  us — thus  iriHucing  me  to  suppose  that 
we  were  travelling  towards  Quebec.     The  dark   ride 
was  enlivened  by  their  iponversation,  and  although  my  i 
sense  of  justice  condemned  their  ill-gotten  spoils ;  yet  I  : 
oould  not  heartily  disapprove  of  a  measure,  by  which  I 
had  been  so  joyfully  rescued   from  immediate  ruin. 
Their  whole  talk  was  a  sipeciraen  of  reckless  raillery, 
respecting  the  manner  in  which  they  would  confess 
their  sin,  and  buy  the  Fretre's  pardon  with  his  own 
money  :  or  in  case  of  necessity,  they  declared   they 
would  threaten  the  Priest  with  an  expt^ure  of  his  con- 
cealed female  companions.  ^ 

"  I  will  confess  to  the  Cure — said  Jacques — I  am 
afraid  some  crowns  which  were  pairl  me  in  Quebec 
were  part  of  his  holy  money  ;  and  upon  condition  of  his 
pardoning  all  my  sins,  that  he  shall  have  them.  O  ! 
how  he  will  praise  my  love  of  the  Church,  and  my  ten- 
der conscience." 


t^ 


Cela  n'est  pas  bon ;  that  will  not  do — replied  Pierre — 
I  will  go  and  pray  him  to  pardon  me  for  being  at  the 
dance  on  a  Si)uiday;  and  then  tell  him,  that  had  it  not 


"A     .^J*«^ 


,_ ,-J«C  •«•--  • 


r 


i    -<^ 


*, 


U 


J 

i 

I 


74 

been  foi-  me,  the  whole  of  his  property  would  havebeeo 
burnt.  *  Who  first  weot  into  the  house  ?  will  be  his 
question.  I  shall  answer — 'the  Sacristan'. — 'Where 
was  the  strongest  part  of  the  fire  V  will  the  Pretre  de- 
mand. I  shall  reply — '  In  the  upper  rooms.'  Who 
opened  the  closet  and  took  out  the  contents  /'  will  he 
desire  to  know.  '  Ah,  Monsieur !  will  I  say — Je  ne  sais 
pas,  I  know  not.  That  was  burnt  out  before  1  could 
get  to  the  fire.'  Then  he  will  shake  his  ht^ad  at  his 
loss,  praise  my  diligence,  pardon  all  my  sins,  and  give 
me  his  blessing  ;  but  if  it  was  worth  one  sous  he  would 
not  bestow  it  without  being  paid  for  it." 

"  Voiis  ne  faites  rien ;  you  are  good  for  nothing  at  all, 
— affirmed  Francois,  the  driver — 1  will  go  to  him — 
'  Ah,  Monsieur,  je  t^uis  bien  fache  de  voh  pertes  ;  Ah, 
Sir!  I  am  sorry  for  yonr  los^  This  will  obtain  hie 
smile.  '  Mais,  Monnieur,  on  dit'—  but,  Sir,  they  say' — 
In  an  angry  tone  he  will  cry  out — '  Q,u'est  ce  qu  'on 
dit  ?  What  do  they  say.  '  Pardonnez  moi ;  pardon 
me' — I  shall  reply.  He  will  insist ;  and  1  shall  oppose, 
until  at  last  1  shall  inform  him,  that  Guise  arrived  at 
the  fire  just  as  it  was  extinguished,  and  asked  if  any 
person  had  seen  a  young  woman  about  the  fire  ;  that 
we  all  said,  No.  That  she  continued  to  repeat, 
*  Pauvre  miserable  ;  poor  wretch  !' — so  that,  they  say, 
there  was  a  girl  burnt  up  in  the  fire. — "  Who  saysso  T 
will  he  demand.  '  All  the  people  say — will  I  reply — 
that  they  heard  Guise  lamenting  to  herself  over  a 
pauvre  miserable  ;  andi  that  she  often  saysj  it  was  bet< 
ter  to  jump  out  of  the  window  into  the  soonr,  than  to  be 


^■'  *} 


'yf,:- 


n 

burht  in  a  house.  'PreoeoE  garde,  take  care  ;  iviiltlie 
Pretre  reply — contradict  that  story.'  Upon  which 
I  ehail  promise  him  obedience,  and  he  will  grant  me 
pleniere  indulgence,  full  indulgence  for  a  year." 

"  What  is  the  Pretre's  name,  and  what  do  they  call 
the  place?"  1  asked. — "  t)o  you  not  know  the  Pretre's 
name  ?"  said  Francoin. — "  No,  was  my  reply — I  know 
neither  his  name,  nor  what  they  call  the  village." — 
"  Tant  mieux ;  so  much  the  better — answered  Fran- 
cois— -then  we  ore  safe." 

Of  the  Priest's"  reported  tricks,  avarice,  and  disso- 
luteness, they  detailed,  I  suppose,  all  which  they  knew. 
Their  conversation  proved  to  me  ;  that  of  good  princi- 
ples, they  themselves  had  very  little  idea ;  that  they 
considered  all  religion  to  be  a  farce,  in  which  the  Priest 
enacted  the  chief  character  ;  and  that  to  rob  the  Cures 
was  only  doing  in  another  form  the  very  same  thefts 
which  they  always  practised.  Every  thing  which 
they  mentioned  confirmed  my  abhorrence  both  of  the 
Priests  and  their  system.  How  long  we  had  continued 
to  ride,  or  what  distance  we  had  come,  I  know  not ; 
and  when  they  understood  my  ignorance  of  the  Priest's 
name  and  of  the  spot,  they  would  not  answer  any 
question  by  which  I  could  ever  know  either,  so  thai 
they  might  elude  all  suspicion  and  discovery.  Who 
were  my  fellow  travellers,  or  where  we  were  going, 
nvas  equally  a  mystery.  The  cloudiness  of  the  morn- 
ing also  interrupted  any  distant  view ;  but  sometime 
aiter  day-light,  we  stopped  at  a  house  to  breakfast. 


^^!»Khm»^- 


*'r 


^r 


^rhe^e,  during  the  interval  of  preparation,  the  Prleal  t< 
spoilers  divided  their  prey.  They  obtained  a  large 
booty,  and  offered  me  an  equal  part,  which  I  refused. 
But  when  they  heard,  that  the  old  coquin,  as  they 
termed  the  priest,  had  stolen  my  clothing  and  that  J 
Was  pennyless,  they  insisted  that  I  should  accept  a 
small  sum  as  a  present  from  themselves,  independent  of 
their  good  and  lawful  prize,  as  they  jocularly  termed  the 
Priest's  louis  d'ors,  to  keep  me  from  immediate  want 
till  I  coilld  find  a  refuge. 

"  During  the  breakfast,  an  inquiry  was  made— 
**how  shall  we  direct  our  course  ?"  It  was  proposed  to 
proceed  by  Point  aux  Trembles  to  Quebec.  To  this 
'Course  I  decidedly  objected,  and  told  them,  that  I  was 
known  there,  and  should  be  discovered.  They  there- 
Ibre  determined  to  take  the  interior  route  by  Lorette, 
and  leave  me  where  I  pleased.  ^^  * 

....  .       '      M 

'We  again  stopped  for  dinner:  and  before  sun-set,  about 
>  mile  from  the  Indian  village,  we  finally  separated. 
When  the  carriole,  with  my  deliverers,  had  fully  disap' 
peared,  I  once  more  felt  my  foriorn  situation.  Knowing 
that  every  stranger  is  a  curiosity  to  the  habitans,  and  that 
if  the  Cure  is  at  home,  the  smallest  novelty  is  immediate- 
ly revealed  to  him ,  1  dreaded  exposure,  and  yet  dared 
not  intrust  myself  with  persons  unknown  in  a  carriole, 
even  had  one  passed  me.  To  stay  in  the  snow  during 
a  December  night  was  certain  death.  I  wandered 
along  the  road,  scarcely  conscious  of  my  movements 
until  night  had  completely  set  in ;  when  upon  lookuig 


jSjCiri.-i  ,,-■--« 


'^M^^'^a^i;*f^ii»^fiSi^)k^ 


'vsj6*ia»i^tj 


fr 


arouud  tne,  I  perceived  bf  the  Aiooq,  that  I  bad  diverg* 
ed  from  the  mad  to  Qoebec  towards  the  mountain.  I 
fclt  a  numbness  creeping  over  me,  which,  as  soon  as  I 
began  to  reflect,  warned  me  of  my  danger,  and  I  in* 
3tantly  eierted  all  my  energies,  and  hastened  to  retracb 
my  coarse.  The  exercise  was  salutary  ;  but  when  I 
arrived  at  the  village,  my  dilemma  continued  the  same. 
I  could  not  directly  appeal  for  a  night's  lodging  to  the 
Indians.  No  means  of  escape  were  present  to  my  view. 
Uy  fortitude  left  me.  I  forgot  the  Almighty  Refuge. 
I  retraced  the  past  with  horror ;  and  the  future  I  dread 
ed.  I  felt  as  a  worm  trodden  under  foot,  and  crushed 
to  the  earth.  In  my  own  apprehension,  I  was  a  per< 
fectly  isolated  human  being.  I  could  not  claim  a 
fnend — and  all  the  men  and  women  whom  I  knew, 
except  my  deliverers  from  the  Pretre's  house,  seemed  to 
be  leagued  in  a  conspiracy  against  my  personal  purity 
and  peace. 


^l 


In  this  agitated  state  of  mind,  I  wandered  to  and  fro. 
The  light  which  the  evening  before  had  directed  me  to 
a  God  of  mercy  was  not  perceptible.  In  the  pungency 
of  my  \  terness,  I  had  forgotten  the  Almighty  arm, 
which  iiad  interposed  for  my  deliverance,  without  per- 
mitting me  to  perpetrate  the  scheme  that  I  had  once 
intended,  for  had  no  other  means  been  practicable,  I 
had  resolved  to  set  fire  to  the  house  and  escape  in  the 
confusion.  In  this  wretchedness,  I  walked  along  thai, 
main  road,  and  as  far  as  I  can  retrace  my  impressions^^ 
determined^  that  I  would  be  impelled  by  ciicumstances  ^ 

as  they  might  arise.    The  sound  of  the  waters  and  the 

7 


,,..5?7;.--,-;?r-j^- 


ll 


m^ 


\-t 


w 


.■^■■.,~ 


sight  of  the  ibam  bewildered  my  imagination  ;  and  1 
thought,  that  death  or  Ufe  was  c^  equal  moment,  as  no 
person  on  earth  was  interested  in  me.  This  is  my  last 
existing  distinct  recollection .  I  was  then  standing  near 
the  Church  at  Lorette.  Of  all  the  rest,  I  am  totally 
unconscious,  until  I  became  sufficiently  restored  to 
hear  your  story,"  to  thank  you  for  your  benevolence, 
and  to  praise  God  for  ray  preservation."  ^  >  '^<r  hUi  :   i 

Chretien,  who  had  betrayed  most  emotion,  as  Louise 
unfolded  her  melancholy  narrative,  first  interrupted 
the  silence  which  ensued  after  she  had  closed—"  If  I 
thought  that  such  s'ufulness  existed — he  remarked — 
I  would  forswear  the  Priests  and  their  corrupt  religion 
fi)rever." 


"  What  have  you  ever  seen  in  me — asked  Louise^ 
with  great  dignity  and  pathos — which  should  induce 
you,  Chretien,  to  doubt  my  painful  tale  ?" 


.» ■ 


"  Nothing  at  all,  dear  Louise—  he  replied — but  this 
wickedness  seems  so  incredible,  that  one  demands 
strong  testimony  to  overcome  our  doubts."      trl  i    ^  •  • 

*"  This  only  proves  what  I  said  before — interposed 
Diganu — but  what  evidence  will  satisfy  you,  that  the 
Priest  who  has  been  the  tormentor  of  Louise  is  also 
now  concerned  in  this  mystery ;  and  that  he  is  the 
strange  Pretre  who  visited  us  ?  Will  Louise's  positive 
rec(^nition  of  him,  as  well  as  of  the  same  hand-writing 
in  the  two  letters,  convince  you  ?"  =     ^^s-      •.  .    ^ 


,  \ 


|MMn>*"***^W#^***'^'''*"*"  -.»**•»:*'  f«V--*r>-.;»y»'-*^**  '  ""y%^[  ■*jj:i<w^/irtl>1ii>4\**n.  ,->^'<  Vi('Mtt#>----N^ 


4> 


" '  ■••■  ^"*^ 


W 

'<  I  will  believe — answered  Chretien — every  thing 
that  Louise  has  said,  if  the  Priest  who  visited  as  the 
other  day  appears  to-morrow  at  Lorette."  ^    ' 

"  Nod'.s  verrons ;  we  shall  see" — remarked  Louise ; 
and  speedily  left  her  friends  to  prepare  for  the  antici- 
pated contingencies  of  the  eventful  morning,  so  anx- 
iously desired,  and  yet  so  deeply  dreaded,  by  Diganu. 


i 


'>;:s'luU-SJ    ■■-■    ^iv"^',.    V-       ,,1;    ,-,-..'.   -  ■    _i.o  y;(>5  ■■J5:>  <).,- 


■■  "~V ,...  ^»»w~<-.«.%-., 


i»..>;'fci  ,.1. 


'W-i'f   "1.-* 


•^Sktiii. 


\ 

1. 

w 

V. 

.'  * 

.t  4 

■V 

\  ■! 

^f 

• 

\   ■ 

"^ 


"    .  LORETTB. 


< :  ;*>      The  hopeif  the  dreams  d*  former  day?, 
Which  once  did  cheer  Hfe's  gloom, 
Arise  before  my  fearful  gaze, 
Like  spectres  from  the  tombt 


As  mall  party  of  their  acquaintances  had  been  invited 
lO  accompany  Diganu,  Louise,  and  Chretien  to  Ijorette; 
who  were  not  apprized  of  their  intended  marriage.  In 
sase  of  any  emergency,  they  were  selected  as  witness- 
es and  defenders.  Louise  appeared  in  the  same  dress, 
except  that  Guise's  winter  apparel,  being  then  unsea- 
sonable, was  discarded.  After  they  had  breakfasted, 
she  retired,  to  commend  herself  to  God,  and  his  fatherly 
grace  and  protection.  When  their  friends  began  t« 
assemble,  Louise  requested  to  see  Diganu  and  Chretieo 
alone. 

''  I  .ijLOst  sincerely  thank  you,  Chretien — Louise  ten- 
derty  remarked — for  all  your  kindness  to  me.  I  know 
that  we  shall  see  each  other  no  more  after  this  morn 
ing ;  but  be  assured,  that  the  remembrance  of  youii 
friendship  will  remain  as  long  as  memory  endures,  and 
will  ever  be  mingled  with  the  hope  of  meeting  you  in 
*hftt  world  were  the  wicked  cease  from  troubling^" 


• 


...^' 


,J^' 


.-,,-  -cl 


1  invited 
lx>rette; 
ge.  In 
witness- 
le  dress, 
unsea- 
kfasted, 
fatlierly 
!gan  to 
/iiretieo 


use  ten- 
I  know 
morn- 
f  yom 
es,  and 
you  in 


<  w 


"  Your  anticipations,  ray  dear  Louise,  are  t«3o  som- 
bre— answered  Chretien — once  already  have  you  been 
partly  rescued  from  misery,  and  I  hope  this  day  will 
witness  your  complete  deliverance."   . 

She  offered  him  her  hand  in  friendly  salutation, 
with  a  melancholy  shade  of  features,  totally  different 
from  a  bride's  ordinary  expressive  glow,  and  then 
addressed  her  betreihed.  "  All  that  is  in  my  trunk, 
Oiganu — c<aid  !  iouise — is  rightfully  yours,  and  to  ycu 
I  restore  it.  But  this  I  present  you  as  my  only  ielic 
and  my  most  precious  remembrancer — giving  him  her 
Bible — 1  foresee  that  you  will  value  it  for  my  sake. 
Believe  in  it  as  I  do.  I  trust  that  you  will  derive  conso- 
lation  from  it  as  I  have  done ;  and  as  1  expect  never 
more  to  return  to  this  house,  it  will  be  the  best  mc 
mento  of  your  Louise." 

The  feeling  was  so  oppressive,  tbu£  Bhn  sunk  into 
H  chair.  But  having  recovered  h»T  ioi/'posure,  she 
knelt  down  and  prayed  to  the  Fatler  of  mercies  for  her 
friendsj  and  for  her  own  preservation.  At  he  close  of 
her  short  devotions,  Louise  icit  re-assu  ed,  and  re- 
marked to  Chretien — "if  we  meet  any  persons  lo  day 
whom  I  know  I  will  inform  you." 

.> 

Diganu  interposed — "  1  cannot  go  lo  Lor;^tte ;  my 
heart  is  too  overpower«d  with  alarm." 

■;  ^i, 'r^uu-;::-^  7*::  .'vj ,'   ,   ,  :■..■;    :  '',..■.'>    '•. 

"N'importe;  no    matter— replied  Louise- -fhus  to 

live  and  be  tantalized  is  a  lingering  consumption ;  it  is 

7* 


'•^* 


I? 


\r 


00m^ 


U^.-..\!j'Vf,    i      1 


.  • 


:c 


aa 


preferable  to  ascertain  the  final  resuU.  H  love  you 
Diganu,  as  a  sis  er  might,  most  tenderly ;  for  your  kind- 
ness, your  sympathy^and  your  virtues ;  bi^t,  inexplicit; 
ble  as  is  the  fact,  I  never  had  the  sligjbitest  c(<nDi|bi^ 
attachment  or  inclination  for  you. 

"  This  is  truly  astonishing — subjoined  Diganu — 
'here  is  something  so  attractive  and  so  repulsive  in  all 
your  words,  actions  and  character,  that  I  accede  to  your 
wishes,  gloomy  as  is  the  prospect.  We  will  be  tortur- 
ed thus  no  longei.  Either  v/e  will  live  together  insep- 
arable, or  we  will  know  the  mysterious  connection 
^hich  see  ns  both  to  unite  and  to  divide  us." 

THieir  mutual  pungency,  which  flowed  from  the  evik 
•  bat  the  friends  foreboded,  was  partly  nlieviated  during 
ihe  ride  from  Quebec  to  Lorette,  by  the  consolatory  pic- 
ture which  Louise  drew  of  her  christian  exercises,  hef 
resignation  and  h  pe  in  God,  her  resolutions  of  sted- 
lastness,  and  in  her  meek  exultation,  that  her  purblind 
instructions  had  been  so  far  efficacious  through  the 
Divine  blessing,  in  enlightening  Diganu,  that  she 
rionbted  not  he  would  become  a  sincere  believer  iO: 
^esus,  the  Son  of  God  ;  and  she  charged  him  to  study 
;liat  blessed  book,  her  Bible.  '  But — said  Diganu^. 
interrupting  her — why  did  yon  not  retain  it  for  your 
own  comfort?" 


''Wiiat  use  could  I  m&ke  of  it  ? — added  Louise— if  f 
am  forcibly  separated  froj  1 1  you,  my  enemies  would  de-. 
r^troy  it,  and  persecute  me  the  more  for  having  found  it 


.,:■! 


•'^•;: 


■rvf^ 


le  evik            P 

during 

ly  pic- 

es, her 

i 

sted- 

irblind 

\\\  the 

<■! 

it  she 

iver  iD; 

study 

ganu^. 

your 

-ifl 

Id  de-. 

and  it 

m 

in  my  possession ;  but  if  I  return  to  Quebec  with  yoUi: 
dearest — and  she  cast  upon  him  a  placid  smile,  whicb 
Diganu  ever  after  dwelt  upon  with  indescribable  emo- 
tions— then  we  shall  study  it  together.  But  as  I  do  not 
expect  this  result,  I  have  provided  for  the  consequencee* 
A  large  portion  of  its  holy  contents  I  have  treasured  up 
in  my  memory,  as  an  antidote  to  error,  an  incentive 
to  obedience,  and  a  fountain  of  comfort." 

The  elevation  and  spirituality  of  the  topics  (o  which 
they  had  attended  during  the  latter  part  of  the  journey, 
were  peculiarly  appropriate,  and  beneficial  to  their 
agonized  hearts.  It  seemed  to  unite  them  in  a  novel 
tie  ;  and  liouise  was  soothed  by  the  conviction,  that 
Diganu  had  attained  some  Christian  knowledge  and 
stability.  Their  fortitude,  however,  was  again  shaken^ 
as  the}'^  approached  Lorette. 

At  the  cxiremity  of  the  village  llie  party  halted,  and" 
Clirelien  having  mformed  thcii  associates  of  the  objecf 
rf  'heir  excursion,  proceed  id  to  ascertain  if  the  Priest 
was  ready  tc  pei  I'orm  the  ceremony.  Some  of  the  In- 
dians and  their  squaws,  with  the  children,  were  loung- 
ing near  the  entrance  of  the  church,  as  customary,  if 
any  strangers  arrived  or  were  expected.  When  Chre- 
tien inquired  for  the  Priest,  he  was  directed  to  the 
church,  where  lie  found  two  Priests,  besides  the  Cure, 
one  of  whom  he  recognized  as  the  same  who  had  visi-, 
Ced  and  threatened  Diganu  ;  the  other  was  unknown. 
Two  strange  women  were  also  seated  near  the  altar ; 
^id  on  the  other  side,  the  two  Indian  females  who  had 


i 


n 


f,i8»w<* 


\'^  *i4»-' 


v>.1. 


i\\ 


w- 


81 


BUised  Louise  during  her  abode  at  Lorette.  This  ar- 
ray portended  evil ;  which  was  not  diminished,  when 
as  he  approached  the  Cure,  who  was  robed  for  the  cere- 
mony, to  inquire  if  the  nuptial  party  noight  appear,  the 
Priest,  whom  he  had  before  seen,  exchanged  a  signifi- 
cant and  half-smiling,  but  murky  look,  with  the  other 
Pretres,  and  the  two  women  who  were  near  thera.     . 


J 1 !  r  * 


ryi.  fc^s  -Vv 


When  he  returned  to  his  friends  Ciivctlen  was  most 
painfully  embarrassed — but  to  Louise  and  Diganu,  he 
ftrst  announced  what  persons  he  had  tieen  in  the  church. 

'*  I  anticipated  it — said  Louise,  almost  sinking  to  the 
ground — but  1  am  prepared  for  the  worst.  It  is  the 
will  of  God.  Here,  ( 'hretien — and  she  presented  him 
her  hand — ticcept  my  last  adieu.  Remember  your 
promise.  You  must  now  believe  all  that  I  have  assert- 
ed. Snap  the  chain-  which  has  so  long  fettered  your 
mind  and  will.  Stand  close  by  me  ;  that  at  least  I 
may  have  time  to  make  known  the  parties,  if  I  should 
recognize  any  of  them.  Comfort  Diganu  in  his  distress. 
Cultivate  your  mutual  friendship.  Study  my  Bible  .! 
Ood  bless  you  !" 


y 


Dig  .,4. a  stood  like  a  marble  statue.     The  informa 
tion  had    momentarily  overwhelmed  his  faculties — 
'••  Diganu,  it  is  too  late — faintly  uttered  Louise,  shud- 
dering as  she  spoke — to  alter  our  plans.     Trust  in  God ! 
"Vbu  shall  hear  from  me. 

The  friends  who  perceived  the  alteratien  in  Louise 


:Himv.t>MN!fmk' 


''0 


^•K 


S6 


This  ar- 
d,  when 
the  cere- 
|)ear,  the 
i  signifi- 
he  other 
em.     . 

vas  most 
janu,  he 
J  church. 

3g  to  the 
X  is  the 
ned  him 
)er  your 
^e  assert- 
red  your 
it  least  I 
I  should 
distress. 
y  Bible .! 


and  .Diganu,  pressed  around  to  comfort  them.  It 
became  necessary  therefore  to  admonish  the  party  d^ 
the  cau9e  of  their  distress,  and  Chretien  thus  remark- 
ed— "  events  have  recently  occurred  of  a  very  extraor- 
dinary and  perplexing  nature,  and  the  appearance  <fi 
some  persons  whom  I  have  seen  in  the  church  has  in- 
creased our  embarrassment."  The  geotlemen  and 
ladieS)  especially  Chretien  and  the  Bride-Maid,  aQ 
avowed  their  resolution  to  assist,  and  to  oppose  any 
evil  whicli  might  be  attempted.  They  stopped  at  thai 
pan  of  the  road  where  the  precise  spot  was  in  view 
whence  Louise  had  been  rescued,  and  to  which  they 
all  walked.  There  she  devoutly  blessed  God  for  hif 
goodness,  asfain  expressed  her  gratitude  to  her  preser- 
vers,  poured  forth  her  whole  heart  in  a  short  prayer  for 
Piganu  anil  (.'hretien,  and  then  with  slow  and  faltering 
steps,  more  like  the  measured  procession  of  a  funeral, 
than  the  joyous  movements  of  a  wedding,  they  pro- 
ceeded to  the  Church.  ^    r^<   ;•  ,    -u     :  i?  *  ^nifrr 

Unknown  to  the  party,  as  soon  as  they  all  had  enter 
ed,  the  principal  door  of  the  church  was  locked.  Louise 
was  veiled,  and  walked  between  Diganu  and  Chretien, 
leaning  on  the  arms  of  both  her  friends.  As  they 
moved  towards  the  altar,  Louise  uttered  a  loud  shriek, 
upon  which  all  her  attendants  stopped.  When  sht 
recovered  her  fortitude,  she  remarked,  in  a  whisper,  t» 
Diganu  and  Chretien — "The  Priest  on  the  right  of 
the  Cure  is  my  tormentor;  the  other  I  know  not. 
That  tall  woman  was  my  coutpanion  to  Jacques  Carti^^ 
and  I  suppose  on  my  other  journey.  The  other  crea* 
tnve  is  Guise." 


% 


>,A'- 


t^resently  they  advanced,  and  the  ceremony  WttS 
about  to  begin ;  but  the  Priest  who  had  visited  Diganu 
prohibited  the  marriage,  declaring  that  Louise  had 
dedicated  herself  to  the  Church,  and  that  she  could 
not  be  discharged  from  her  vows. 


I'i.k'iHt^aft^m/^   ■%k^-t*  . 


•  This  statement  was  peremptorily  denied  Ny  Louis^ 
Diganu,  and  Chretien,  who  had  dismissed  their  fears, 
and  whom  indignation  had  emboldened  to  resolute 
resistance.  The  Cure  therefore  proceeded — but  during 
his  ceremonial,  the  other  Priests  held  a  short  consulta* 
tion,  and  presently  gave  a  signal  to  the  female  stran- 
ger, who  suddenly  rushed  upon  Louise,  seized  her 
by  the  arm,  and  forbade  the  marriage.  Diganu  and 
Chretien  could  scarcely  master  the  Fury,  so  as  to  retain 
Louise  under  their  protection.  When  she  had  become 
a  little  calmed,  she  turned  to  the  officiating  Priest,  and 
in  a  direful  voice,  cried  out — <*  Cease :  the  marriage  is 
unlawful !    Diganu  and  Louise  are  brother  and  sister  V' 

A  death-like  stupor  instantly  seized  all  the  nuptial' 
party.  The  Priest  and  Guise  grinned  with  malicious 
delight — "  Come  here  " — said  the  woman,  addressing 
die  Cure — "  look  at  this  cross  on  her  forehead — turning 
back  her  hair.  She  then  called  upon  their  friends  t» 
view  it — "  remember  that  cross,  it  is  a  sign  of  recf^ni- 
tion  imprinted  by  her  Mother."  'ji-'»  fr,  ,  «i  ,.^,-r.vv»^<it 


«u 


\"fi' 


Nothing  .'an  possibly  exceed  the  reafiy  profound  as* 
tonishment  of  the  yoftthtiil  friends,  and  the  affected 
surprise  of  the  Cure  at  this  exhibition.,     "Look  at 


^^ 


-#. 


* 


'V 


•     Hi.   V 


nt.■.»r^ 


8f 


this^continued  the  viragO)  pointiog  to  Diganu'iB  bead 
— and  who  put  that  mark  on  the  boy?  lli» Mother ; 
the  same  fingers  inscribed  both ."  «, 


•%Vf 


■«  .3*,.t4i-.»'J/^V;   ViiLi:  ',>  '*»  / 


f*/ 


Chretien  wais  incensed  with  anger,  and  could  not 
ijestrain  his  feelings — "  Avaunt !  said  he,  pushing  her 
away — if  they  are  Brother  and  Sister,  then  as  Louise  is 
a  friendless  orphan,  Diganu  is  her  rightful  protector ; 
and  shall  be  her  defender  and  supporter,  until  this 
mystery  is  explained  and  their  relationship  is  proved." 


!>.«', 


"He  shall  not" — said  the  two  Priests  together,  and 
instantly  rushed  towards  the  bridal  pair.  Diganu  and 
Louise  had  only  time  to  exchange  the  kiss  of  affection, 
with  her  fervent  "  God  bless  you,  Diganu,  adieu !" 
•re  the  Priests  and  the  two  women,  with  some  assis- 
tants whom  they  had  concealed  to  aid  in  their  wicked- 
ness, overpowered  the  young  men,  snatched  the  shriek 
ing  and  screaming  Louise  away,  and  hurried  her 
through  the.  sacristy,  so  that  they  saw  her  no  more. 

Diganu,  Chretien,  and  their  friends  were  equally 
alarmed  and  stupified  at  this  outrage  ;  and  especially 
when,  in  endeavoring  to  escape  from  the  church,  they 
found  all  egress  precluded.  The  Priest  who  had  visi- 
ted Diganu,  with  the  two  women  and  the  two  squaws, 
fiad  disappeared  with  the  Sacristan,  when  Louise  was 
carried  off;  and  every  means  to  ascertain  the  fate  of 
Louise  was  destroyed  by  their  inability  to  escape  from 
the  church.  During  this  interval,  the  women  and  the 
Priest  and  Louise  had  proceeded  in  a  covered  carriole 


*rih 


U' 


Si 


(bwards  Qu^lic,  m  that  all  porsuit  wonM  have  been 


\lSCWff8* 


\.*v»>     V^»'.'  *ijr^»    i*  *'*rfw*f  ■    "  .-wtX"*       ■*- 


•^ 


While  they  were  thus  agonized  for  Louise,  and  t  or- 
xified  for  their  own  safety,  after  a  tedivois  time,  he 
Sttcriotan  again  entered,  and  the  Cure  instantly  be^  an 
to  reproach  Diganu  and  Chretien,  menaced  them  ^  ith 
all  the  curses  of  his  church,  and  the  tevrors  of  the  civil 
IbM^r,  if  they  did  not  quietly  depart.  "  You  are  guilty 
of  sacrilege— said  the  Priest — and  you  have  defiled  the 
('Consecrated  place,  by  raibing  a  tumult  and  making  a 
•contest  within  these  holy  walls.  Retire  from  the  vil- 
Tage  withotit  delay  ;  and  be  thankful  if  no  worse  pun- 
tahment  befal  you."       ^  ..v.;   ..;;.,;  ylrr*^ 


[\'-}M\m   ,:Ki;oi^< 


•■■,  '^X  imi  :■  <i-»w 


..*•;&'  ^tati. 


.Lis:.  J', 


..  •:  :)n, 


■>l 


;j-!0r7'r  O't   !'■)•!    .'!.■• 


li'M 


;iJ','   ;.  'i>   'i-^'^i  i! 


»•-  .;  f 


•-t 


•/i-. 


...,'-l» 


''if 


(f  ■■ 


l.-mn      .U  ,v.3^; 


"iijiv  ''*5il  oii^-tK-#fr^f  ;/'":' 


y>>i"r}>;';; 


']i'-   f7.'<;!j'[' 


i 


M^  h  'u:  .  ^-« 'J 'Jf^  ■  *!;lf'r  i" ^''.  ^t' 


,  .'l>>^/.■i.^'u^ 


i^t^i 


vf^s^n-,  V%:^:^^'y-  ^  -.^  **0V.    ''ift^i 


■<.rl.i 


l'  •  -.1*^ 


V 


r/ 


^        '«! 


THE   DISCOVERY. 


I  pun- 


0'\ 


'■  ■^S'ii'.s'' 


s  . 


t*^ 


^  iVf 


Well,  thou  art  gone,  a  'ii  left ; 

But,  O  !  how  cold  anu  aark  to  me. 
This  world,  of  every  charm  bereit, 
Where  all  was  beautiful  with  thee  !'* 


X  Digaau  and  his  friends  returned  to  Quebec  with 
unutterable  emotions  of  sorrow  and  disappointment. 
The  melancholy  feelings  of  survivors  after  the  inter- 
ment of  a  beliwed  relative  are  ecetacy,  compared  with 
their  sufferings.  Upon  their  arrival  at  Diganu-s  house,  . 
the  feast  was  spread  ;  but  she,  who  was  to  have  been 
its  head  and  ornament,  had  vanished.  During  the 
evening,  Chretien  detailed  some  of  the  more  interest- 
ing facts  which  Louise  had  narrated ;  and  his  friend 
was  partially  soothed  by  the  unanimous  decbion  of 
their  companions,  that  it  was  very  probable  she  was 
his  sister ;  and  that  although  it  was  terrifying  to  re* 
fleet  upon  the  mode  of  separation  and  the  parties  who 
had  effected  it,  still  it  was  preferable  to  the  mar* 
riage,  even  though  Diganu  and  Louise  would  have 
been  excusable,  from  ignorance  of  their  near  relation-, 
ship.  >  '  .        r 

Nevertheless,  Diganu  and  Chretien  could  not  \30 
satisfied.  Having  resolved  to  discard  the  Priests  alUh 
g«ther,  they  determined  to  bring  the  matter  to  a  jadi- 

.9 


^. 


IMAGE  EVALUATION 
TEST  TARGET  (MT-3) 


■  •^^       ISO  '"^~    miii 


I.I 


2.5 


1^  li&    IIP  2.2 


I 


40 


2.0 


1.8 


11.25  11.4    IIIIII.6 


V 


71 


f^ 


Photographic 

Sciences 

Corporation 


23  WEST  MAIN  STREET 

WEBSTER,  N.Y.  14580 

(716)  872-4503 


90 

cial  investigation.  They  applied  to  Rohoirsic,  a  law-  ^, 
yetf  whose  well  known  opinions  of  the  Priests  justified 
their  hope  that  the  labyrinth  might  be  explored.  He 
undertook  the  cause  with  great  alacrity  ;  and  assured  \ 
them  that  he  would  never  relax  in  the  pursuit,  until  the 
mystery  of  iniquity  was  revealed.  The  grand  difficulty 
consisted  in  selecting  the  person  upon  whom  tu  fix  the 
charge  of  criminality.  It  appeared  thai  the  Cure 
could  only  be  summoned  as  a  witness,  because  to 
involve  him  as  an  accessary,  would  preclude  all  the 
testimony  which  his  knowledge  of  the  other  persons 
might  elicit.  The  women  were  entirely  beyond  cog- 
nizance. Rohoirsic  advised  that  Diganu  and  Chretien 
should  have  an  interview  with  the  Roman  Prelate ; 
and  from  the  manner  in  which  he  Was  affected  by  the 
information  the  ulterior  proceedings  could  be  partly 
determined.  Soon  after  they  communicated  unto  that 
Papal  ecclesiastic,  the  main  facts  only  respecting  the 
proposed  marriage,  and  the  outrageous  manner  in 
which  the  bride  had  been  forcibly  abduced  by  the 
Priests.    .     ■  '      ■,  ^-     ,■;  .     .     .,    -.,,-.  -^f.j^. 

"Ehbien!  well — said  the  Prelate— and  were  you 
not  aware  of  the  mortal  sin  you  were  about  to  comiixit  7" 

"  How,  Monsieur  ? — replied  Diganu— I  do  not  com-  * 
prehead  what  sin  there  cotddbe  in  marrying,  according 
lo  the  law  of  God  and  man,  the  object  of  a  pore  and 
sincere  affection." 


<^^" 


^r 


\S'  Rut  you  have  said — retorted  the  Jesuit— that  the 


1?>    . 


:.r^'^- 


.;7-"-v"n 


M 


com- 
rding     v 

s  and    :::^ 


fr,      * 


91  ft 

yottiig  woman  had  been  dedicated  to  the  church,  and 
to  the  holy  life  of  the  convent." 


^  "  i>oint  du  tout,  not  at  all — interposed  Chretien— tl|e 
Prie$t  said  eo,  but  Louise  herself  and  we  denied  it." 


^ 

m 


■•''K 


*^  Ah  ! — said  the  Bishop,  assuming  an  air  of  pompous 
mitred  dignity,  rind  prelatical  contempt  for  his  visitors-— 
and  do  you  think  that  I  shall  believe  the  assertions  of 
two  disorderly  young  men  in  preference  to  a  Priest  of 
our  Holy  Church  ?  Besides,  you  say  that  the  young 
woman  was  your  sister — how  can  you  dare  to  come  to 
me  with  a  complaint  of  this  kind  ?" 

"  S'il  vous  plait,  if  you  please — replied  Diganu — I 
stated,  that  the  Priests  who  stole  Louise  from  me 
affirmed  that  she  was  my  sister ;  but  they  offered  no 
proof  of  that  fact." 

■ '  *"  How  can  you  dare  to  dispute  or  even  disbelieve  the 
word  of  a  Priest  ? — answered  the  Pope's  legate,  his 
whole  countenance  bemg  inflated  with  wrath — know 
you  not  that  resistance  to  the  authority  of  the  lawful 
Priests  is  rebellion  against  God,  not  to  be  tolerated«ven 
in  thought,  much  less  in  woid  and  in  action  ?  For  this 
contumacy,  you  merit  the  censures  of  the  Church,  and 
I  shall  direct  your  Cure  to  that  effect.  Before  he  ab- 
solves j'ou,  I  shall  see  that  you  have  done  ample  pen- 
ance, and  that  the  Church  receives  full  satisfaction. 
When  you  next  take  a  young  woman  to  live  with  you, 
remember  that  you  do  not  entice  a  Postulante  or  a 


■?  ■ 


fi 


'  ■      '  *"'''*fiwn'*^r 


92 

j^ovice.  Souvenez  vous  de  moi,  partez ;  remember  me» 
depart.'* 

l^bis  convereadoa  was  convincing  proof  that  the 
Jesuit  Prelate  was  acquainted  with  all  the  circumstan* 
ces,  and  that  the  pontifical  shield  would  be  advanced 
to  screen  and  defend  his  subordinate  ecclesiastics. 
Diganu  and  Chretien  reported  their  interview  to  the 
attorney,  who  merely  remarked — "  we  must  see  the 
Cure  of  Lorette." 


r{>  imri\- 


■y?" 


Two  of  the  intended  nuptial  party  accompanied 
Rohoirsic,  Diganu  and  Chretien ;  and  after  much  diffi* 
culty  were  introduced  to  the  Cure. — "  I  regret  to  trouble 
you — said  the  lawyer — but  suits  are  ordered  to  be  in- 
stituted against  you  and  your  Sacristan,  and  others,  for 
the  forcible  abduction  of  a  young  lady  during  the 
matrimonial  ceremony.  Notwithstanding,  I  am  au- 
thorized toojTer  you,  that  if  you  will  become  Icing's  evi- 
dence, the  civil  action,  and  the  criminal  information, 
so  far  as  you  are  concerned,  shall  be  withdrawn." 

"Bin  verite,  truly — answered  the  Priest,  not  in  the 
least  moved — and  who — casting  a  lowering  glance  at 
Diganu  and  'Chretien — will  have  the  effrontery  to  sup- 
port those  allegations  ?" 

""  Cela  n'importe,  that  is  of  no  importance — replied^ 
Rohoirsic — a  heinous  offence  against  all  that  is  holy  in 
the  sight  of  heaven  and  earth  has  been  committed  by 
three  of  your  Priests  ;  and  if  there  be  any  law  and 
justice  in  this  province,  you  shall  receive  their  award." 


•m 


'( 


Fjprfi^ 


\  -: 


.  / 


','     # 


93 


"  Do  you  understand,  Sir—reiorted  the  Cure,  with 
much  apparent  Haag-froid  and  disdain — to  whom,  and 
of  whom  you  talk  in  this  unprecedented  style  ?  are 
you  not  aware  of  the  danger  which  attaches  to  your- 
self, and  much  more  to  your  companions  and  he 
turned  up  his  nose,  curled  his  lip,  and  elevated  his 
head  with  well  simulated  oriogance  and  contempt — by 
your  threatened  proceedings  ?" 


■i.-4  -* 


"  Je  vous  comprens,  I  understand  you — indignantly 
responded  the  lawyer — but  Me^piseyour  threats  equally 
as  your  favors — and  as  for  all  the  ruffians  at  your  com- 
mand, I  defy  you  and  them  Long  have  I  been  en- 
deavoring to  ferret  out  your  secret  abominable  proceed- 
ings ;  now  I  have  a  perfectly  sufficient  clue,  and  in 
spite  of  the  craftiness  of  the  Bishop  and  all  the  Jesuits 
in  Canada,  I  will  not  desist  until  this  mystery  of  wicked- 
ness is  unravelled.  If  you  will  come  forward  and 
testify  what  you  know,  you  shall  be  exonerated ;  if 
not,  I  forewarn  you,  that  there  is  ample  evidence  to 
convict  three  of  your  order,  and  to  send  you  into  that 
safe  keeping,  where  yotk  will  not  have  the  power  to 
kidnap  young  women  as  victims  for  your  sensuality ."^ 

The  Cure  was  manifestly  disturbed  at  this  bold  and 
\U(icquivocal  denunciation.  It  implied  a  knowledge  of 
the  arcana  of  their  lives,  which,  in  the  hands  of  so  in- 
flexible an  enemy  and  scrutinizer,  might  lead  to  very 
Unpleasant  and  perilous  developments.  After  a  pause; 
therefore,  the  Cure  mildly  rejoined — "  this  matter  can 
possibly  be  compromised.     Your  demand,  however,  is 

H-  ^\  8*  .-         .  ■;  rf^i  a4  ■ -f" 


^1 


'  ■■    "m 


■■■i^i 


.•|^v«ry  ■■  ■■* 


^-Abiii^^ft 


■'-'  ■'"nmmmm**'^ 


« 

/-■•w 


u 

qM  witliia  my  power ;  but  I  will  lubiDit  the  whole 
oaie  Co  the  Biihopi  and  inform  you  of  bis  decidoD." 

**  Gela  ne  vaut  rien,  this  avails  not — answered  the 
lawyer — the  Prelate  is  already  apprised  of  this  master.    : 
He  has  been  uonsulted,  and  is  a  virtual  accessary  to  the    ' 
crime,  probably  both  before  and  after  the  outrage.   This  ' 
was  implied  in  his  own  declaration.    Instead  of  direct- 
ing his  censures  against  these  violators  of  female  purity, 
and  these  transgressors  of  all  right,  law  and  decorum, 
he  palliates  their  enormity,  pleads  the  official  character 
of  the  criminal  perpetrators,  and  denounces  the  loudest 
thunders  of  ecclesiastical  indignation  against  the  in« 
jured,  agonized  sufferer,  who  has  been  robbed  of  his 
consolation,  and  his  most  precious  treasure." 

'"  If  the  facts  be  as  you  describe  them— artfully  re- 
plied the  Priest — it  will  be  preferable  for  me  to  represent 
them  to  my  ecclesiastical  superior.  He  will  receive  my 
statement  with  more  regard  than  a  complaint  from  the 
laity." 

This  Jesuitical  finesse  was  manifestly  to  gain  time. 
But  the  lawyer  decided,  that  as  the  delay  would  not 
affect  the  despatch  of  any  legal  proceedings,  some  dis- 
covery  might  be  made  during  the  interval,  especially 
as  Louise  had  promised  that  Diganu  should  hear  from 
her ;  and  although  that  event  was  scarcely  to  be  an- 
ticipated, yet  in  her  case  it  was  not  impossible.  Upon 
these  terms  the  parties  separated.     .^  .  ^../sv 

.  As  the  Cure  delayed  hie  answer  Co  the  proposal  made 


'/■ 


r   . 


9S 


to  him,  Rohoinio  again  informed  bim  that  lie  had  ob- 
tained overwhelming  evidence  to  couvia  the  partiei} 
and  that  all  attempts  to  evade  the  investigation  would 
be  fruitless,  as  the  Governor  was  informed  of  the  ex- 
traordinary circumstances  connected  with  the  affair  of 
Lorette,  and  had  promised  his  executive  interference, 
if  the  ordinary  legal  process  should  not  be  sufficient  to 
elicit  the  truth. 


This  communication,  being  too  authoritative  to  be 
resisted,  was  effectual.  A  few  days  after  he  had  re- 
ceived it,  the  Cure  thus  replied  to  the  lawyer — ''  I  am 
directed  to  state,  that  as  speedily  as  practicable,  an  "ex- 
plicit answer  will  be  given  you  concerning  the  whole 


case. 


j> 


*ii- 


Nearly  three  months  had  elapsed  when  the  detested 
Pretre,  who  before  had  destroyed  their  peace,  entered 
the  house.  Diganu  and  Chretien  recoiled  at  the  sight 
of  him,  as  if  a  black  snake  had  darted  upon  them. 
His  features  and  manners  appeared  to  be  totally 
changed.  The  former  Hbore  an  aspect  of  benignityi 
atid  the  latter  were  polished  and  affable.  The  friends 
expressed  not  the  most  distant  courtesy,  or  any  tokei^ 
of  civility.  "I  come— Hsaid  the  Jesuit,  after  a  pause, 
as  if  he  had  expected  them  to  inquire  into  his  object — 
to  pacify  youc  minds  respecting  Louise." 

It  was  a  cunning  prelude.  He  well  knew  that  het 
name  would  constituUSa  charm  and  his  passport  to  an 
imdience.    Piganu  and  Chretien  nodded  assent,  am) 


■^  ^ . 


-■:.  .xY 


m 


the  latter  said — "  on  that  account  we  are  willing  to 


receive  your  communication 


» 


*'  Your  marriage—<x>ntinued  the  Pretre— could  not 
Iiave  been  permitted  on  account  of  your  fraternal  rela- 
tion"— Diganu  hnstil  interrupted  him  with  this  re- 
mark— "That  remains  to  be  proved.  1  know  so  much 
of  your  knaviHh  artifices  and  impostures,  that  I  will 
now  believe  nothing  where  the  interests  of  your  church 
and  of  your  order  are  concerned,  though  all  the  Priests 
in  Canada  swear  toils  truth."*"'*  '   '^ 


■^^. 


^  A  momentary  flush  of  wrath  passed  over  the  Je- 
suit's countenance,  which  was  imniediately  followed 
by  a  derisive  smile.  "  Diganu— replied  the  Priest — it 
is  of  no  importance  what  you  and  your  friend  believe. 
No  other  mode  of  impeding  an  unlawful  marriage  ex- 
isted. Circumstances  may  be  true,  which  it  is  difficult  . 
or  dangerous  to  prove.  It  will  be  ruinous  to  you  to 
'produce  the  testimony  which  shall  absolutely  convince 
you  of  the  certain  tact  that  you  arc  the  son  of  Louise'f? 
mother." 


"  What  care  I  for  ruin  ? — retorted  Diganu,  over- 
powered with  distress — who  am  1 1  what  am  I  /  what 
have  I  been  7  Who,  except  Chretien,  cares  fqr  me  ? 
What  difference  should  I  feel,  if  to-morrow  I  were  seized 
and  shipped  to  Europe  ?  I  should  only  have  to  rely  upon 
my  own  exertions  to  obtain  comfort,  there,  the  Fame  M 
1  have  to  do  in  Quebec  ?"  vj:  -rh^v-\  -^  ;■•■*  jfe'f^'-v.   ,:,  ,- 


■  '»''.:■ 


Hiv^-- 


*-s 


*.;jr-^'^«  . 


'd 


97 

When  he  bad  thus  efiuaed  his  half  ihougbUats  solilp^ 
quy ;  the  Priest  resumed  bis  remarks.  **  Non  pas  fl 
?ite,  not  so  fast ;  who  watched  over  you  in  infancy  7 
who  provided  for  you  in  youth  ?  who  contrived  for  you 
a  tolerable  education  ?  who  suppUed  your  wants?  who 
advised  you  to  engage  in  business  ?  and  who  has  often 
befriended  you,  when  you  wanted  pecuniary  assistance 
to  carry  it  on  successfully  ?" 


i-%1 


r''. 


*•;! 


''  Chretien  and  his  father — answered  Diganu — i*.ni 
except  Louise,  I  never  yet  saw  any  other  human  crea- 
tures who  appeared  to  feel  the  least  solicitude  respect- 
ing me."  * 

"  Tres  bon,  very  good  ! — ^added  the  Pretre — then 
you  suppose  that  Chretien's  father,  for  so  many  years, 
has  shewn  all  this  kindness  to  you  for  nothingjiitflfr  out 
of  his  own  small  income  ?"  5^*  SJb«  '^ 

A,  gleam  of  light  suddenly  irradiated  their  minds  p^>wi». 
and  there  was  a  mingled  ^ash  of  surprii  ?.nd  inquiry 
indicated  by  the  countenances  both  of  Eiganu  and 
Chretien.  The  Priest  instantly  perceived  the  advan^ 
tage  which  he  had  so  dexterously  attained — "  C'est 
assez,  it  is  enough — he  next  remarked — there  is 
another  reason  for  Louise's  separation  from  you.  She 
is  strongly  suspected  of  having  imbibed  very  heretical 
notions  from  an  old  woman  whom  she  was  appointed 
sometimes  to  visit,  that  she  might  understand  how  to 
perform  the  offices  of  charity  for  the  sick,  the  poor,  and 
the  afflicted.    That  old  woman  was  discovered,  after 


.f-y 


^<•l»,^«H»l^   -'•- 


r.*t#n.>«U  «.      .%  1. 


% 


-  '  ,-iS* 


r«' 


her  death,  to  have  been  an  apoetate  from  our  holy 
mother,  (he  Church." — Here  Diganu  and.  Chretien 
amiled,  and  involuntarily  displayed  a  look  of  con- 
temptuous aversion ;  which  was  noticed  by  the  Jesuit 
*^I  understand  you, — he  subjoined — but  more  of  that 
point  hereafter.  This  is  now  the  reason  for  her  being 
reihoved  from  you  ;  although  after  your  avowed  inti 
macy,  even  your  mutual  conviction  that  she  is  your 
sister  would  render  her  residence  with  you  improper  ; 
and  as  she  was  originally  designed  for  the  convent,  it  is 
determined  to  restore  her  to  her  retirement  and  duties, 
that  she  may  be  reclaimed  from  her  heresy  and  disobe- 
dience to  the  Church."  ;„ 


•"^'v,-,'- 


"It  is  all  unavailing — replied  Diganu — I  am  resolved 
at  all  risks  to  know  her  fate,  and  to  have  the  fact, 
that  Louise  is  the  daughter  of  my  Mother  demonstra- 
led  to  my  satisfaction." 

•^  "  I  warn  you — said  the  Priest— that  your  obstinacy 
in  this  respect,  Diganu,  will  be  not  only  your  own 
ruin ;  but  that  it  will  be  attended  with  the  greatest 
danger  to  ail  your  associates  who  were  recognized  in 
the  church  at  Lorette,  when  your  incestuous  marriage 
was  so  seasonably  interrupted."        ^  ,  ■■^mm 


-.{  "Why  was  not  our  relationship  commutiicated 
before? — asked  Diganu,  with  irritated  impetuosity — "it 
is  evident  that  the  place  where  Louise  was  concealed 
was  known  to  some  of  your  ruffian  gang." — A  strong 
49xpression  of  angry,  scornful  emotion  here  perturbed 


w 


.-  t 


.is. 


-ijfjrayr-- 


•-,m{>^  .w,v-».'w*>»!s 


»ii»i«,  •'  iM  '■■irifitit-  ■rf3t«<.'.*^'  1 


^ 


:  k 


*-\ 


.  > 


9d 


%*- 


^•, 


for  a  momtot  the  etherwise  serene  features  of  the 
Pretre — "and  she  might  have  baen  left  to  me — said 
i)iganu — at  least,  that  I  might  experimentally  under- 
stand what  one  of  the  endeared  connections  of  domestic 
life  includes."  ^^' 

''  I  have  told  you  already — replied  the  Priest,  with 
his  first  suavity  of  manner — that  no  evidence  could 
have  been  adduced  to  convince  you,  without  involving 
you  both  in  more  misery  than  even  your  sudden  and 
coerced  separation.  Yuur  mind  will  speedily  be  at 
rest  by  an  attachment  for  another  female,  and  Louise 
will  be  restored  to  the  bosom  of  the  Church,  from  which 
she  has  so  perversely  or  thoughtlessly  strayed." 

"  Jamais  ;    rion  jamais  ;    never,  no  never  !-— said 

Diganu,  with  fervid  excitement — no  force,  no  tortures 

will  ever  induce  Louise,  while  she  is  in  her  senses,  again 

^  to  be  united  with  your  abominable  craft."  a, 

"  Tres  excellent ;  most  excellent !  Diganu — an- 
swered the  Pretre — then  Louise  has  improved  her  time 
nobly.  I  perceive  that  either  love  or  folly  has  infected 
you  with  her  own  mania."  „  ^  ^  j,  j.., 


*'  Mania  or  not — returned  Diganu,  with  unguarded 
exasperation — I  speak  as  1  feel ;  and  will  do  it  in  full 
at  the  proper  time  and  place.  I  believe  your  religion 
(Dhave  been  contrived  in  hell,  and  that  y(|u,Boman 
Priests,  are  no  better  than  fiends  incarnate."  *  .'u  ' 

Chretien  was  terrified  at  bis  friend's  imprticlent  an^ 


w. 


-•# 


100 


ihitig«rouf  sincerity.  The  Jesuit  contrived,  however,  to 
tonceal  his  exacerbated  feelings,  while  he  replied  with 
all  the  composure  which  he  could  possibly  assume—"  I 
Cbank  you  for  your  candor ;  your  avowal  now  places 
us  upon  a  different  relation  to  each  other.  Know 
then,  Diganu,  I  dread  neither  your  opinions  nor  your 
statements ;  and  of  this  fact  you  have  full  proof  by 
my  visiting  you  alone  in  your  own  house.  Had  t 
been  afraid  of  your  menaced  legal  proceedings,  or  of 
Rohoirsic,  or  the  King's  Bend  i,  or  even  of  the  Gover- 
nor, I  shonld  not  have  risked  my  person  by  appearing 
unto  you;  and  had  Chretien  withdrawn  from  the  room, 
f  should  have  suspected  his  intention  to  procure  help 
to  detain  me,  and  should  have  fled.  The  wretched 
consequences,  whatever  they  might  have  been)  would 
have  fallen  upon  yourself  alone."       ,,  ^^ 


.  **-    w: 


This  practical  avowal  of  daring  fearlessness  perplex- 
ed Diganu.  It  seemed  that  his  tormentors,  by  some 
inscrutable  means,  had  him  so  completely  in  their 
power,  that  they  could  make  him,  just  as  they  pleased, 
the  foot-ball  of  their  amusement.  His  fortitude  was 
not  relaxed,  but  he  began  to  falter  in  his  pertinacity^ 
The  lynx-eyed  Jesuit  discerned  his  internal  conflict^ 
and  adroitly  seized  the  occasion  additionally  to  embar- 
rass hinA.  "  Diganu — said  he— I  come  here  as  your 
ftiend" — 


rf^'- 


f  HW 


"  Friend  !^ — retorted  the  eon  of  sorrow,  ^vehemenUy 
interrupting  him — then  what  is  friendship  but  a  name  ? 
if  you  are  a  friend,  what  is  an  enemy  V* ,.  .  ;i4. 


%. 


^' 


101 


.>„. 


*<  We  skall  not  now  enter  apon  abtiraot  discussioni^ 
continued  the  Pretre — I  have  businew  of  more  interest. 
I  repeat  my  declaration,  that  I  come  to  visit  you  as  a 
friend.  Nothing  can  alter  the  fact,  that  Louise  is  your 
sister.  All  the  authority  of  the  government  cannot 
discover  her  retreat,  or  if  that  could  be  ascertained,  dare 
not  attempt  to  remove  her.  You  will  see  her  no  more, 
*  I  presume,  in  this  world.  Cela  suffice,  that  is  sufficient. 
But  you  are  free,  capable  of  enjoyment ;  and  if  you 
bad  continued  In  your  dutiful  ohedicuco  to  the  Church, 
you  might  have  l)een  prosperous  and  happy,  without 
trouble.  Now  you  are  denounced  by  the  Bishop  us  a 
heretic." 


f- 


"  Je  ne  m'en  soucis  pas,  I  caic  not — Diganu  scorn- 
fully uttered — who,  what  is  he  ?  a  fit  confederate  for 
the  ungodly  Priests  who  were  at  Lorette."         « 

"  Prenez  garde,  take  care  !  —subjoined  the  Priest-^ 
how  you  utter  your  opinions  upon  these  subjects  to 
others.  I  excuse  Uiem  from  the  agitation  of  your 
feelings,  and  the  species  oT  delirium  which  comes  over 
you  ^hen  you  think  and  talk  of  Louise.  Great  painp 
have  been  taken  to  mollify  the  Bishop,  whose  high 
ecclesiastical  dignity  you  so  deeply  offended,  and  whose 
apostolic  spiritual  aulhority  you  so  contumeliously 
defied.  I  know  that  you  are  on  incorrigible  heretic — 
Chretien  stared  with  astonishment—do  not  affect  sur- 
prise—said the  Pretre,  addressing  himself  to  Chretien— 
you  also  are  placed  upon  the  list  of  the  suspected,  and 
nothing  but  a  strict  and  uninterrupted  conformity  tf> 


A'^ 


I'" 


lOtt 


#. 


(ti' 


Ti%d|'' 


&  lli«  of  die  ChuTcli  anci  tld  coxmn^flilf  of  i(0 
heaveii^appoitited  Priests,  Will  save  you  froin  the 
ttfrota  of  that  sentence  of  greater  tizcommiinkationi 
Wbi<ih  it  denoances  against  all  apostates." — At  this 
folly,  Diganu  looked  unutterable  dislike,  mingled  with 
profound  contempt  for  such  a  fallacious  description  and 
such  an  arrogant  claim. — "  I  know  thdt  you  are  a 
heretic,  Diganu — the  Pretre  continued— but  you  are 
pitied  on  account  of  disappointment,  which  on  your 
part  was  involuntary  ;  and  you  both  are  respected  for 
your  delivering  Louise  from  her  danger,  and  for  your 
subsequent  tender  care  and  brotherly  protection  of  her. 
This  has  been  explained  to  the  Bishop,  who  was 
soothed  by  the  account  of  your  kindness  to  your  sister, 
and  he  has  condescended  to  remove  from  you  the 
censures  of  the  Church  which  he  had  pronounced.'* 


■(•^ 


-V 


t     :        \    ■     f- 


i 


"I  care  neither  for  his  censure  nor  his  praise-^ 
answered  Diganu — I  saw  enough  of  him  to  induce  me 
to  have  no  more  connection  either  with  him,  or  with 
any  of  his  inferior  Pests  of  this  province." 

"Hear  me — added  the  Jesuit,  with  an  unaltered 
countenance  and  tone — you  will  be  indulged  in  your 
heresies  without  notice,  provided  that  you  do  ^ot 
assail  the  sacred  persons  and  characteni  of  the  holy 
priesthood." — Diganu  ejaculated — "Holy  Priests!  then 
what  is  devilish  ?" — The  Pretre  seemed  not  to  hear 
him.  "  The  same  persons  unknown  to  you — he  con- 
tinued— who  hitherto  have  directed  your  junior  course, 
will  be  always  ready  to  serve  you  ;  but  it  is  upon  one 


-,*  R  ■■■■• 


, -,-,1. '" 


•lif:* 


■•■'    «:' 


••-1K: 


103 


condition  only — that  you  withdraw  all  legal  measure 
in  referenqe  to  your  separation  from  Louise)  and  that 
you  never  again  publidy  iutroduce  that  painful  ^ur- 


rence. 


ir-A.^ 


rii**., 


.i?i,-.j*i' 

:.-._..     -*'. 


"  O'est  impossible,  it  is  impossible ! — replied  Dlganu 
— 1  never  shall  be,  1  never  can  be  at  peace,  until 
the  mystery  respecting  my  relation  to  Louise  is  satis- 
factorily explained."    ,  •  V  '  ^  -*;! 

"Once  more  I  repeat— rejoined  thePretre — it  cannot 
be  done  personally  to  you.    Those  mdividuais  to  >  horn 
yi  have  alluded,  as  far  as  practicable,  wish  to  relieve 
:  jour  anxieties  upon  that  point,  and  have  proposed  a 
"^plan,  to  which,  if  you  accede,  all  disputation  will  for- 
ever be  termiuuted.     Will  you  confide  in  Monsieur 
Rohnirsic  ? — will  you  consent  to  any   arrangement 
which  he  may  mak« '/     And  if  he  can  be  conviuced 
thieit  Louise  is  your  si»ter,  will  you  be  contented  ?" 


i^vi)*!; 


->,-»-..  >>-£ 


Diganu  cast  an  inquiring  look  upon  Chretien.  Af^ 
ter  a  short  pause — "  I  doliot  want  your  answer  thig 
evening — said  the  Pretre — r^ect  upon  the  subject 
when  you  are  more  composed.  Consider  whether  the 
complete  assurance  of  your  confidential  advocate,  and 
in  tifis  case  his  own  inclinations  will  make  him  faithn 
ful  to  you,  would  settle  your  own  mind.  If  you  (dease, 
consult  your  professional  adviser ;  and  I  will  see  you 
again  for  your  ultimate  decision."         >>, 

Bjf  Cbretie«'s  advice,  Diganu  accepted  this  pro- 


.4i- 


-mmms^-<. 


■  "riiri'i'%l**^fl4"" 


^¥ 


'Uj. 


% 


'104       .   '-'^'''-  .    <U 

jaosition :  and  immedldtely  after  expressing  his  assent, 
the  Priest  saiil— "  To  prove  that  the  parties  with  whom 
you  are  so  deeply  offended,  for  what  you  consider  their 
unpardouable  outrage,  have  no  design  further  to  pain 
you,  I  am  requested  to  present  you  this  trifle — offering 
him  a  bag— not  as  a  conipensation  for  your  anguish; 
but  to  reimburse  your  expenditures  for  Louise." 

"  Trasfi ! — replied  Diganu,  contemptuously  spurn- 
.ing  at  the  proffered  gold — what  can  recompeube  me 
for  the  pungent  sorrow  which  I  have  endured  ?" 

^  "  t  repeal— said  the  Pretre — that  the  contents  of 
this  bag  are  not  intended  as  a  cordial  for  your  sorrows, 
but  as  an  act  of  justice.  To  a  young  man  with  a 
small  business,  just  entering  active  life,  the  additional 
expences  to  which  you  were  subject,  through  the  sick- 
ness of  Louise,  and  her  residence  \i  ith  you,  are  hot 
unimportant.  Chretien,  take  charge  of  tliat  bag  ; 
probably  Diganu  yet  may  be  induced  to  accept  its  con- 
tents for  the  sake  of  his  sister.  Bon  soir ;  good  night !'' 
and  he  hastily  departed.  ;,"  ^  ^' 

*  Chretien  was  gratified  to  perceive,  that  through  this 
interview  with  the  Priest,  Diganu's  heart  gradually 
became  more  resigned,  and  more  disposed  to  credit  the 
statement,  that  Louise  was  his  sister.  If  c  sn  a  dehi- 
sion,  Chretien  judged,  that  the  only  method  to  allisviate 
Diganu's  grief  was  to  encourage  his  belief  of  it,  for  aH 
hope  of  ever  meeting  Louise  again  was  a  palpable  de- 
ception.  Chretien  therefore  encouraged  the  sentiment^ 


^r^. 


,        \'^- 


"■■'v 


-«»j(j«y(«»-'*-'-- 


wW**  *'7*T'w*wWPT98i 


.^p 


X         ■'■•<^' 


10& 


until  Digana  began  to  consider  that  their  separation, 
under  all  the  circumstances,  if  he  was  her  brother,  was 
preferable,  while  he  felt  not  the  least  abatement  of 
:liis  detestation,  either  for  the  mode  or  the  agents. 

Sou^e  days  after  the  Jesuit's  visit,  a  parcel  for  Diganu 
was  received,  which,  upon  being  opened, contained  a  let- 
ter and  a  large  package  of  iouis  d'ors.  Diganu  request<<« 
ed  Chretien  to  count  them,  to  replace  them  in  the  bag, 
and  to  seal  it,  while  he  perused  the  letter.  He  had 
read  but  a  few  lines,  when  he  betrayed  great  agitation. 
After  a  moment's  reflection,  he  arose,  aod  drew  from 
his  desk  the  letter  which  he  had  tbrmerly  received, 
prohibiting  his  marriage  with  Louise.  "  C'est  le  meme, 
it  is  the  same — he  said — most  extraordinary !"  Chretien 
inquired  ^the  cause  of  his  emotion.  "  Another  letter — 
answered  Diganu — in  the  same  hand-writing  as  before. 
We  must  unravel  this  strange  circumstance." — The 
letter  was  evidently  written  by  the  same  woman  who 
had  despatched  the  former  terrifying  scroll. 

To  Diganu. 

"It  is  of  no  use,  Diganu^  to  oppose  the  truth.  Lpuise 
is  your  sister.  I  tell  you  again,  as  you  heard  at  Lorette, 
the  same  motherly  hands  stamped  the  cross  on  both 
3^our  heads,  on  purpose  that  you  might  be  recognized 
whenever  it  might  be  necessary  to  interfere  in  your 
concerns.  Father  and  Mother,  you  and  Louise  never 
knew,  although  you  have  never  been  from  unCzt  their 
control.  From  this  time,  they  will  have  no  further 
concern  with  you.     Louise  is  as  comfortable  as  her 

heretical  temper  will  allow.     She  Jias  made  both  you 

9f 


M^^- 


->^'. 


iffi^i 


T^^?I|V'IS»^;= 


'h 


v 


w 


>v  .^ 


106 

and  Chretien  heretics:  but  the  Holy  Bishop  and  Priests^ 
mercifully  believing  that  you  are  not  now  exactly  in 
your  right  mind,  postpone  their  sentence  against  you^ 
You  must  give  up  your  law-suits,  or  else  worse  will^ 
come  upon  you.  You  received  a  letter  before,  and 
you  found  every  word  of  it  true.  Remember,  thereforcj 
my  present  advice     Hearken  to  the  Priest's  proposal. 

JiTou  shall  not  bring  the  business  to  a  trial.  The 
Lawyer  will  not  be  touched  ;  because  as  he  is  such  an 
enemy  to  the  Bishop  and  the  Priests,  if  any  harm 
should  come  to  him,  their  Reverences  would  be  char- 
ged with  having  instigated  it ;  but  for  the  rest  of 
you  no  person  is  concerned.  Therefore  mark  me — 
if  you  persist  in  your  obstinacy,  Louise  will  die  un- 
known and  where  no  earthly  power  can  ever  discover 
it ;  and  you,  Diganu,  with  Chretien,  shall  follow  her, 
struck  by  an  invisible  hand,  and  in  such  a  manner, 
that  the  world  shall  pronounce  you  both  suicides  after 
your  exit.  I  have  sent  you  some  money;  make  a 
right  use  of  it.  Attend  to  your  business.  Never 
gamble  ;  that  is  the  road  to  ruin.  Get  all  the  money 
you  can.  Never  trouble  yourself  about  the  Priests  and 
Nuns.  Be  cautious  what  kind  of  a  woman  you  marry. 
Do  not  talk  about  our  religion.  Keep  your  mouth 
close.  Watch  your  neighbors.  Take  care  of  your- 
self and  your  money  ;  then  you  can  do  as  you  please. 
Mind  number  one  ;  and  all  will  be  well !  Adieu !  thi^ 

'    is  the  last  that  you  will  ever  hear  of  Louise !" 

■;i,  .  ■  #      #      #      *• 

^  •'  Tres  bon ;  very  good !— «aid  OhretiiBn— -the  old. 


■*;■; 


:i 


:m. 


'"''utt*^^^''""''''' " ■"■' 


,y.i.aaw»»^'.anijlWWHn.t 


m 


h   t  ^■:i. 


iiag,  as  Louise  truly  named  her,  knows  the  ways  of 
the  world." 


"It  is  very  surprising,  Chretien — remarked  Diganu 
— that  your  father  and  mother,  who  brought  me  up, 
should  never  have  ntentioned  any  hint  of  all  these 
matters.  Do  you  chink  it  possible,  that  they  are  igno- 
rant of  what  the  Priest  explained,  and  what  this  letter 
implies? 

"  Cerlement,  certainly  ! — replied  his  friend — I  have 
iieard  my  father  and  mother  often  declare,  that  they 
knew  nothing  about  you ;  except  that  when  they  went 
to  Quebec,  they  always  stopped  at  one  house,  and 
soon  after  they  arrived,  a  man  or  woman  used  to  call 
and  inquire  for  you,  find  out  what  you  wanted,  and 
give  them  clothes  for  you,  and  groceries  and  other  do- 
mestic supplies,  as  much  as  they  wished.  But  who 
they  were,  or  where  they  lived;  they  do  not  know  at 
this  hour  and  I  was  only  ten  years  old,  when  we  first 
eame  together  to  Quebec." 


,  "^' 


Diganu  and  Chretien  soon  visited  the  lawyer,  re- 
counted the  conversation  with  tlie  Jesuit  Priest,  and 
shewed  the  letter  which  had  been  received,  prior  to  the 
affair  at  Lorette,  and  that  dehvered  a  fbw  days  before 
their  interview.  "  There  is — remarked  Rohoirsic — an 
appearance  of  truth  about  this  circumstance,  which 
involves  prudential  questions  of  great  importance. 
Doubtless^  Louise  is  immured  in  some  dungeon  where 
no  earthly  power  can  save  her ;  and  it  is  not  less  cer- 


i): 


r'')ifm^0^mmm!!i 


W': 


I 


«• 


108 

iain,  that  to  hinder  the  legal  investigatioQ  of  the  sfory 
of  Louise,  that  they  will  execute  their  vengeance.  If 
they  resolve  to  murder,  nothing  can  save  you.  The 
Priest^  order  will  be  obeyed ;  his  servile  tod  has  no 
conscience,  but  the.Pretre's  command.  Even  could 
the  investigation  be  pursued  to  its  close,  and  ihe  fact 
that  Louise  was  Diganu's  sister  be  proved,  it  would 
only  secretly  banish  those  ruffians  from  the  province, 
by  episcopal  mandate ;  while  your  lives,  as  they  de- 
clare, would  immediately  be  sacrificed.  Against  their 
wiles,  I  am  convinced,  that  there  is  no  security;  be- 
cause any  plan  which  they  project,  will  be  joyfully  un- 
dertaken ;  and  by  representing  you  as  two  heretics, 
their  ignorant  disciples  would  fancy  themselves  dis- 
playing to  God  their  highest  service  and  allegiance 
when  they  deprive  you  of  life.  Pefore  you  see  the 
Priest  again,  I  shall  doubtless  hear  from  the  Cure, 
and  I  will  advise  you  without  delay  what  answer  to 
return  to  him."  ^ 


'■ 


On  the  following  day,  the  Priest  of  Lorette  called 
upon  Rohoirsic ;  and  after  stating  that  there  were  in- 
trinsic and  peculiar  difficulties  in  the  case,  proposed, 
that  the  counsellor  should  urge  upon  his  client  the 
acceptance  of  the  Priest's  proposal.  "  The  parties  are 
wilhng — said  the  Cure — to  confide  to  you  full  proof  of 
the  relationship  between  Diganu  and  Louise,  upon 
your  engagement  of  inviolable  secrecy.  No  evidence 
can  be  more  satisfactory  ;  but  the  whole  is  of  so  deli- 
cate a  nature,  that  a  public  scrutiny  never  will  be  ad- 
mitted, under  any  pretext  or  claim;  and  it  will  be 


.**=t#  4WI*«I»M*«S- -,«l,  V**  i^'**'*  »i-*- 


<*• 


;'    V- 


V, 


109 


evaded  in  spite  of  all  the  civil  authorities." — The  law* 
yer  expressed  his  acquiescence ;  and  the  Priest,  to  se- 
cure his  favor,  told  him  to  accept  no  fee  from  Diganu. 
"  If  you  can  terminate  the  affair — added  the  Cure — 
you  shall  be  amply  remunerated  for  your  mediation." 

During  ihe  interval  from  the  strange  Priest's  visit  to 
Diganu,  Chretien  ttiought,  th^t  the  evidence  was  so 
plausible  as  to  authorize  belief,  or  deeming  it  fruitless  to 
persevere,  he  had  exerted  all  his  influence  to  procure 
Diganu's  consent  to  the  offer.  His  grand  argument 
was  this,  that  as  the  parties  could  not  unveil  the 
whole  mystery,  Diganu  could  not  be  more  satisfied ; 
that  if  the  lawyer  was  convinced,  no  additional  evi- 
dence was  requisite ;  and  t  hat  as  Rohnirsic  was  so 
embittered  against  the  priestcraft,  and  so  shrewd  in 
discovenrig  a  fraud,  it  was  most  probable  that  they 
W(Miid  not  attempt  to  impose  upon  him,  as  it  would 
only  now  give  him  a  new  advantage  over  them.  This 
impression  was  increased  by  the  Counsellor's  views 
and  opinions,  who  engaged,  that  he  would  admit 
nothing  less  as  truth,  than  testimony  which  would 
convince  Diganu  and  Chretien,  if  it  were  submitted 
unto  them. 

The  next  evening  the  Priest  entered.  He  accepted 
Diganu's  promise,  cautioned  him  to  be  wary  in  the 
expression  of  his  opinions,  and  admonished  him  much 
to  the  same  purport,  as  the  woman  had  done,  in  the 
letter  which  be  had  received.  "  This  business  will  be 
closed  to-mgrrow — he  added;  as  he  was  retiring— on 


11: 


<*■ 


;v 


.,) 


'tS^"'*?'^^-^' "  'E'  «""*"**''*'  '•• 


tio 


tli«  next  day,  you  will  hear  firom  your  CooiMellior :  after 
which,  I  flhall  see  you  once  more ;  till  then,  Adieu  t" 

;  'at}  .*f  my^:.  in     .      ■ 

Diganu  and  Chretien  very  impatiently  waited  for  the 
lawyer's  information.  About  the  time  designatetl  by 
the  Priest,  he  visited  them.  As  soon  oJa  he  entered, 
Digaiui's  feverish  excitement,  mingled  with  his  sorrow- 
ful agitation,  compressed  all  bis  feelings  into  a  short 
question  which  he  abruptly  proposed  to  Rohoirsic.  "  Is 
it  true/"  said  the  youth  ;  but  he  read  the  reply  in  his 
features,  before  the  words  were  uttered — "  Louise  with- 
out doubt  is  your  half  sister. "  Diganu  replied — "  then, 
one  half  of  my  burden  and  my  grief  is  at  once  re- 
moved. Can  you  give  me  any  of  the  evidence  which 
has  produced  that  conviction  in  your  mind  'J^\ 

'  "Every  thing,  of  course — answered  Rohoirsic— 
which  could  involve  any  of  the  parties  in  certain  abso- 
lute disgrace  has  been  concealed,  as  well  as  theic 
names :  but  ample  circumstantial  proof  has  been  pre- 
sented to  me,  that  you  are  the  children  of  different 
fathers  by  the  same  mother.  Two  baptismal  registers 
have  been  produced  in  which  two  children  are  recorded 
as  still  living.  Francis  1).  is  the  eldest ;  and  you  are 
described  as  having  a  peculiar  cross  with  a  1)  marked 
on  your  crown ;  I  should  recognize  it  at  once."  Diganu 
offered  his  head  for  inspection — "the  very  same — ^added 
the  lawyer,  after  a  close  scrutiny;  then  addressing 
Chretien — did  you  ever  notice  this  remarkable  ov^ 
figure?" — Chretien  replied — "not  particulfu^Iy ;  but  a 
aimihu:  mark  in  Louise's  cross  was  very  distinguisha^ 


•^5% 


V 

H 


tTmrnfi    "^M 


tuiimmm 


«a»»l»4.»*«C» 


.•^^r^i\f^t0i^0^?***''''"''^''''  '■ 


I 


in 


Ue.'*  The  kwyer  thus  explaiaed  his  meaniog--*'  that 
mark  was  intended  to  pmnt  out  to  the  parents  only,  in 
case  6f  neeeswity,  the  mother.  It  is  a  capital  Greek 
Theta;  and  divulges  the  two  first  letters  of  her  name." 
Diganu  instantly  nsked— "are  you  acquainted  either 
with  that  or  the  nameet  of  our  fatliers?"  i^^^ 


;^' 


"No— returned  the  advocate— except  that  the  D  in 
your  cross  was  the  initial  letter  of  his  name,  as  the  M 
in  the  cross  of  Louise  was  the  first  letter  of  her  father's 
appellative ;  these  particulars  were  all  that  were  men- 
tioned. From  the  details  which  you  have  given,  and 
from  a  combination  of  various  circumstances,  1  might 
indulge  a  suspicion :  but  these  Jesuits  are  so  deceitfii], 
that  where  their  craft  is  coucerned,  you  can  safely  rely 
upon  nothing  which  they  say  or  do.  But  now  1  have 
to  ask  you  one  question.  Descrite  the  person  of 
Louise?"  Diganu  and  Chretien  portrayed  her  min* 
utely — "The  very  same— -observed  the  lawyer»>>and 
in  the  baptismal  register,  she  is  recorded  as  Louise  M.; 
the  sister  of  Francis  D.,  and  sixteen  months  younger, 
with  a  similar  cross  on  her  forehead  and  the  letter  M  in 
it."  Chretien  remarked — *'  Nothing  can  be  more  alike 
than  the  two  crosses ;  and  Diganu  and  I  often  men- 
tioned that  other  mark  in  Louise's  croi^^.  although  we 
knew  not  the  design."  The  advocate  added — "Nothing 
therefore  can  be  more  clear  than  the  fact,  that  the  M 
was  her  father's  initial  letter." 

" How  old  then  am  I  ?"    inquired  Diganu.     "That 
was  not  comuiuuicated-Tt  answered  Rohoirsic— -butyou 


Iv 


M 


■  V    i 


tA 


> 


V 


)   ■ 


< 


I) 


If  1 


.\ 


113 

IAttotl)e  about  the  age  of  Chretien,  beeaute  his  tnoCb^ 
partly  euckled  you  when  he  was  an  infant*  I  presume 
however,  tliat  you  are  a  few  months  older  than  he  is : 
but  upon  these  topics,  all  possible  reserve  was  main- 
tained. Nothing  was  unfdded,  except  it  tended  to 
verify  the  main  fact,  nnd  of  thatt  I  have  no  doubt." 

The  lawyer  then  proceeded  to  state  acme  general 
circumstances  respecting  Louise,  her  living  at  Point 
aux  Tremble*?,  her  visit  to  Jacques  Cartier,  her  rescue 
at  Lorette,  her  boarding  at  the  house  where  Diganu 
had  first  stationed  her  in  Quebec,  and  some  other 
matters  to  which  neither  Diganu  nor  (Chretien  had 
adverted  ;  which  proved,  that  the  parties  who  bad  made 
known  those  things  had  secretly  watchetl  their  conduct ; 
and  therefore  on  this  subject,  might  surely  be  cre- 
dited. But  when  the  counsellor  proceeded  to  identify 
Diganu  in  the  same  manner,  by  details  of  his  early 
life,  progress,  pursuits,  occupations,  and  many  other 
private  occurrences  only  known  to  Chretien  and  his 
early  domestic  associates,  his  remaining  incredulity 
vanished  away,  and  he  fully  acknowledged — "  Per- 
sons so  minutely  acquainted  with  these  trifling  and 
almost  obliterated  events  of  my  junior  years  must  be 
mysteriously  connected  with  me,  and  therefore  in  a  case 
of  this  nature  their  evidence  is  admissable." 


"  This  is  my  decided  opinion — ^replied  Rohoirsic — 
not  that  they  have  voluntarily  made  this  disclosure. 
They  have  been  intimidated,  and  dreading  the  open 
exhibition  of  a  crime,  which,  only  ia  its  prominent 


t , 


K 


113 


.Jl': 


I 

•et,  the  forcible  abduction  of  a  female  in  the  midit  of 
the  nuptial  ceremony,  would  excite  an  unappea^uie 
commotion,  they  have  preferred  that  you  should  escape 
their  fangs,  and  that  I  should  be  at  liberty  to  imagine 
whatever  1  please." 

"  But  what  shall  I  do  with  the  money  which  hap 
been  transmitted  to  me  ?"  inquired  Diganu.  "  That 
is  well  introduced — answered  the  lawyer — I  am  per- 
suaded, that  to  some  of  the  parties,  who  were  the  pro- 
minent agents  in  the  transaction  at  Lorette,  you  are 
indebted  for  your  birth,  tuition,  and  the  facilities  which 
you  have  received  in  conimeucing  and  carrying  on 
your  business.  This  was  not  disiinctly  stated,  but  ft 
was  intimated,  that  your  connections  who  had  assisteil 
you  before,  are  now  so  enraged  at  your  conduct,  thai^ 
they  have  determined  no  longer  to  befriend  you.  lO' 
fact,  they  dread  lest  by  some  means,  the  medium  by 
which  you  have  been  aided  with  cash  and  credit  shoulf. 
be  traced  ;  and  therefore  they  will  preclude  all  discoverer 
by  leaving  you  in  future,  entirely  to  yourself  Retain 
their  presents ;  then  if  they  discard  you,  the  impression 
that  you  possess  superfluous  wealth  will  enable  you  to 
choose  the  best  connectionai  One  fact  however  was 
plainly  declared ;  if  you  close  the  threatened  litigation  i 
the  persons  who  have  educated  you  will  not  permit 
you  ever  to  be  destitute  and  dependent." 


"  I  sludl  insist  upon  one  condition — added  Diganu—; 
and  for  it  you  must  obtain  a  sufficient  guarantee;  that 
if  Louise  dies  before  me,  I  shall  be  made  acquainted! 

10 


■  % 


'V.  =. 


aHfmrntm**  m       i"" 


MMIWNMWMW 


rtt^m  ' 


i 


fh? 


114 

Vith  her  deeeasA."   The  Counsenor  anewend^^thit 
ii  proper ;  I  will  haye  this  point  fully  insured." 

On  the  same  evening  ibe  Cure  of  Lorette  appeared. 
The  other  articles  were  easily  adjusted ;  but  the  last 
claim  of  Diganu  was  pronounced  iuadniissible.    <'  I 
wish  not  to  impose  upon  you — remarked  Rohoirsic — 
but  1  have  you  all  now  completely  in  my  power.    I  shall 
insist  upon  occasionally  seeing*  Louise.     It  is  a  duty 
which  I  owe  to  all  the  parties ;  for  I  have  promised  to 
oonvey  the  information  of  her  death  to  Diganii,  in  case 
Ike  should  survive  her."    The  Cure  finally  assented ; 
and  the  lawyer  engaged  that  the  whole  affair  should  be 
buried  in  oblivion.    He  presented  Rohoirsic  his  douceur 
for  his  services,  and  desired  him  to  repress  all  intem- 
perate unguarded  expressions;  if  Diganu  and  ("hretien^ 
tlirough  youthful  efTervescence,  should  ever  introduce 
them.     On  the  subsequent  night,  the  counsellor  com- 
municated to  Diganu  and  Chretien  a  full  detail  of  his 
proceedings ;  and  they  were  consoled  with  the  idea ; 
that  at  least,  they  should  hear  of  Louise's  departure ; 
which  they  anticipated  could  not  be  very  distant,  from 
the  trials  which  they  imagined,  she  would  be  forced  to 
endure.     Some  days  after,  the  Priest  who  had  been 
the  cause  of  all  Louise's  misery  entered  for  the  last 
time.     *'I  am  come,  Diganu — said  the  Pretre,  with 
great  cordiality — according  to  my  promise  to  see  you 
once  more :  your  proceedings  now  prove,  that  you  are 
not  totally  insensible  to  reason,  feeling,  and  propriety." 

"  Had  I  possessed  neither—  retorted  Diganu — it  would 


118 


not  have  been  a  matter  of  surprise.  How  u  a  human 
creature  to  show  MenHibility,  who  has  uf\fer  enjoyed  a 
relative's  endearmeuia  to  keep  it  in  exercive ;  and  juit 
when  it  was  beginning  to  awake  and  expand  itself, 
who  has  had  its  first  fresh  and  green  fruits  forever 
blasted."  r         •    •         . 

"The  lawyer  has  convinced  you — repliedthe  Jesuit ; 
that  your  pro|x)Hed  niurriii^e  wus  ill^^al  and  unnatural, 
and   no  other  secure   tnude  existed  to  annul  your 
contract." 

"  Why  was  not  that  explanation  made,  when  it  was 
ascertaiiind  tliat  Louise  was  residing  wiih  her  brother? 
asked  Diguiiu — then  she  might  have  been  useful,  and 
I  might  have  been  at  peace."  -K 

"  It  was  perceived — said  the  Priest — that  your  aflfec- 
tion  had  assumed  that  irrevocable  character,  which  in- 
dulged no  expectation  of  any  change.  Besides,  the 
heresy  of  Louise  exposed  her  to  continual  danger — his 
countenance  for  once  expressed  great  severity— and  her 
heresy  is  unpardonable." 

Chretien  here  interposed,  and  with  great  mildness 
inquired — "  what  is  heresy  ?" — The  Pretre,  with  a 
haughty  air  and  tone  answered — "  Heresy !  Chretien ; 
it  is  heresy  to  cead  the  Bible.  It  is  heresy  not  to  be- 
lieve what  your  Priest  teaches.  It  is  heresy  not  to 
attend  Mass  and  Confession,  and  not  to  pay  the  church 
dues :  and  above  all,  it  is  rank  heresy,  to  act  cantrarf 
to  a  Priest's  directions." 


••Ht^aaHHDk 


116  \ 

"But  I  will  read  the  Bible—exclaimed  Diganu,  with 
dfreat  energy — I  believe  all  that  you  teach  is  strong  de- 
lusion. I  will  never  more  go  to  Mass  or  Confession, 
or  pay  a  Priest  one  sous :  and  I  mean  to  do  every  thing 
exactly  contrary  to  all  that  the  Priests  have  hitherto 
always  ordered  me.    What  am  I  ?" 

The  Jesuit,  with  stifled  emotion,  and  it  was  the  only 
occasion  on  which  his  voice  betrayed  it,  and  with  a 
stern  countenance,  answered — "  Ytiu  are  the  brother 
of  Louise ;  and  an  excommunicated  heretic  !"  Digai  u 
instantly  retoited — "Bravo!  I  glory  ;)  your  brand 
of  the  heresy  and  the  farce  of  the  excommunication, 
for  the  comfort  and  advantages  of  the  relationship." 

"ft  was  no  part  of  my  object — solemnly  but  kindly 
rejoined  the  Pretre — to  introduce  this  poii>t.  I  come 
on  behalf  of  your  former  friends,  to  discharge  my  duty. 
Your  desire  to  hear  of  Louise  as  betokening  a  broth- 
erly affection  is  satisfactory  ;  and  as  the  lawyer  has 
apprised  you,  once  more  you  shall  hear  of  her  ;  I  will 
not  engage  that  you  ever  see  her  again  !  this  may  not 
be  practicable.  Those  persons  who  have  hitherto  in- 
terested themselves  for  you,  on  account  of  the  recent 
events,  are  obliged  to  remain  hereafter  disconnected 
from  all  your  concerns  ;  but  as  they  cannot  even  wish 
you  to  be  more  wretched  than  your  heresies  will  render 
you,  I  am  directed  to  offer  you  this  &s  a  remembran- 
cer. It  is  the  last  pecuniary  favor  which  you  may 
expect  to  receive  from  them — having  presented  Diganu 
a  large  parcel,  he  added — but  now  I  have  one  requisi* 
lion  to  make,  and  I  will  see  whether  a  heretic  can  keep 


...,^.. 


..,^,.4.,Mf^/».»»rp^^itjN»r"' 


J   --'iff 


»!.:■- 


II 


iir 

his  failh  with  a  Roman  Catholic  Priest."  Diganu  and 
Chretien  stared  with  uneasiness  at  this  implied  novel 
exaction.  "  It  is  believed— continued  the  Pretre — that 
Louise  has  communicated  to  you  a  number  of  faiaa* 
hoods  respecting  the  Priests  and  the  religieuses— he 
then  fixed  his  searching  eye  upon  Diganu  and  Chre- 
tien, and  asked — is  it  so  ?" 

Chretien  replied—"  To  justify  herself  for  the  dan- 
gferous  condition  in  which  we  discovered  her,  she  stated, 
that  she  had  been  placed  in  a  very  distressing  situation, 
and  that  she  had  escaped  in  the  commotion  occasioned 
by  a  fire  in  the  house,  where  she  was  involuntarily 
detained  for  pollution."  The  Pretre  unguardedly  asM 
— "did  she  inform  you  in  whose  house  it  was,  and  the 
name  of  the  resident  Priest  ?"  thus  virtually  admitting 
the  truth  of  her  statement,  and  implying  his  own 
knowledge  of  the  fact. 

"Not  at  all— answered  Chretien — it  was  only  the 
hist  night  before  we  went  to  Lorette  that  she  mention- 
ed  it,  and  although  she  identified  and  pointed  out  to 
us  the  parties  in  the  church,  yet  she  declared,  that  she 
could  form  no  accurate  conception  cf  the  parish."  The 
Jesuit  quickly  rejoined — •'  Assez,  enough  !  My  object 
in  noticing  this  matter  is  to  engage  your  promise,  that 
no  mention  shall  be  made  by  you,  of  any  calumny 
which  she  recounted  in  her  delirium."  Diganu  in- 
i^Uintly  exclaimed — "  delirium !  she  was  always  sens!* 
We  when  with  us !"    The  Priest  remarked*-'"  Celo 

10* 


\   " 


118 

a'importei  do  mattenr,  all  these  circumsUmces  hence- 
forth are  to  remain  buried  io.  oblivion." 

^'Certement,  oertainly — said  Diganu — ^but  Chretien 
end  myself  are  not  to  be  molested  for  our  religiouft 
opinionb  and  practices,  although  we  know,  that  it  is 
your  doctrine  to  keep  no  foiith  with  heretics." 

«  That  contract  is  already  decided — added  the  Pre- 
tre — ^faith  in  this  instance  will  be  kept  with  you:  and 
now  we  part  most  probably  for  ever.    Take  my  advice 
young  men,  you  are  inexperienced  in  the  ways  of  the 
world.    Contract  not  large  debts.    Entangle  not  your- 
selves with  secuntyships.    Never  play  at  games  of 
chance  for  money.    Be  upon  your  guard  respecting 
the  females  whom  you  may  select  for  your  wives.    But 
above  all  things,  say  nothing  about  Nuns,  Priests,  and 
the  church.     Your  friends,  ii^  any  emergnicy,  wiU 
assist  you.    Be  cautious  in  your  associations  ;  and 
remember,  that  you  will  always  be  strictly  watched. 
Louise's  comfort  and  your  own  safety  essentially  depend 
upon  your  prudence — he  offered  Chretien  his  hand — I 
know  you  well,  and  am  willing  yet  to  serve  you,  Chre- 
tien—^he  remarked — maintain  your  affection  and  friend- 
ship for  Diganu.  Adieu !  God  bless  you."  Then  turning 
to  Diganu,  who  coldly  accepted  his  proffered  salutation 
he  said  tenderly  and  seriously-^"  Diganu,  I  have  long 
cared  for  your  welfare;  but  now  my  duties  in  that  res- 
pect are  ended.    You  have  ample  means  toestablisb 
a  comfortable  business.    Remember  that  Rohoirsi^ 
•will  ever  be  your  friend  in  need.    Give  yourself  np. 


;■ 


119 

anxiety  for  Louise.  She  is  safe,  and  as  comfortable  as 
she  can  be.  I  shall  see  you  again  I  hope,  before  you 
or  I  leave  this  world" — ^he  laid  his  left  hand  on  Diganu^i 
head,  with  apparent  fervor  pronounced  his  priestly 
"Pax  tecum,  peace  be  with  thee." — and  immediately 
disappeared.  * 


:,  V 


^! 


:   ', 


From  that  evening,  years  revolved,  and  Diganu's 
Ufe  was  almost  an  entire  disconnection  from  all  man- 
kind, except  as  the  mere  routine  of  commercial  busi- 
ness produced  a  temporary  association.  His  soul  was 
almost  circumscribed  within  himself.  By  his  anti- 
social suspicious  of  all  who  were  the  minions  of  the 
Roman  Priesthood,  he  had  contracted  the  habits  of  a 
recluse  with  none  of  his  natural  feelings  ;  and  com- 
bined the  anchoret's  reserve  with-an  enlarged  philan- 
thropy, in  a  situation,  where  every  thing  around  him 
repressed  attachment  and  excited  disgust.  His  only 
companion  was  Chretien.  Louise's  bible  was  his  chief 
treasure  and  delight.  But  his  constant  refuge  and 
faithful,  unchanging  friend  was  the  Father  of  our  Lord 
Jesus  Christ.        .  ^,  it»i*xu  "5^ -  •  i  f ,  ■  ^  .  t ;  ;i-;  ,• ; 


■#■». 


t:-<^j  • 


\  I 


NARRATIVE  OP  LOUISE. 


■■*l:i-'- 


ii^K: 


"  Where  am  I  ?  life's  current  faintly  flowingt 
Brings  the  welcome  warning  of  release  ; 
Struck  with  death  ;  ah !  whither  am  I  going  T 
All  is  well — my  spirit  parts  in  peace." 

The  details  which  follow  are  the  abridged  contents  of 
a  manuscript  that  unfolded  the  history  of  Louise  after 
her  heart-rending  separation  from  Diganu. 

<'  Before  these  papers'Are  seen  by  you,  my  bebved 
brother,  your  Louis^^  no  longer  will  be  a  resident  upon 
earth ;  and  that  you  will  obtain  a  glimpse  of  my  cha- 
racter and  experience  subsequent  to  our  unnatural  and 
wicked  disunion  is  the  result  of  circumstances  which 
shall  now  be  revealed.  It  is  superfluous  to  retrace  the 
events  of  that  terrifying  mom,  when  I  was  dragged 
away  from  your  protection ;  but  it  is  consolatory,  that 
3pou  were  not  apprized  of  the  wicked  object,  as  in  that, 
case,  a  mortal  conflict  alone  would  have  terminated  the 
scene.  After  our  final  adieu,  I  became  totally  uncon- 
scious, and  was  hurried  into  the  carriole  which  had 
drawn  up  to  transport  me  away,  altogether  insensible 
Co  the  proceedings  of  those  who  had  seized  me.  When 
I  first  clearly  realized  my  atuation,  we  were  not  more 
thMi  two  miles  from  Q,uebec  ;  and  hurrying  along  the 


I  d 


u 


intsof 
aftet 


ibved 
upon 
Echa- 
dand 
which 
ce  the 


r,  that 

nthat. 

edthe 

incon- 

ti  had 

insible 

When 

I  more 

ng^the 


u 


toad  with  all  possible  speed  to  the  General  Hospital^ 
where  I  was  transferred  to  the  insane  depattsoent ;  and 
daring  my  detention,  in  which,  I  saw  no  person  but  the 
Woman  who,  at  Lorette  affirmed  that  you  are  my 
brother ;  and  the  Priest  from  whom  1  had  before  es- 
caped. The  true  but  agonizing  reason  for  our  separa- 
tion was  soon  divulged.  Time  had  neither  changed 
the  Priest's  design,  nor  diminished  the  willingness  of 
his  tool  to  aid  hicn  in  effecting  his  base  purpose.  During 
a  month  probably,  I  was  tortured  by  their  constant 
artifices.  Those  of  the  female  were  kind  and  in^ua- 
ting.  The  Jesuit's  stratagems  were  mixed  with  harsh- 
ness and  alarm.  1  resented  the  female  decoys  as 
grossly  unniitirral  andicauttins  j  t!ie  Priest's  meiwoiM^ 
1  scorned  and  defied.  Undnnbtedly,  in  the  friendless 
and  destitute  condition  m  which  they  had  placed  me, 
Lis  treachery  would  have  been  executed,  as  I  after- 
wards discovered,  had  not  your  threatened  law-suits 
placed  all  the  actors  in  a  most  perplexing  embarrass- 
ment. The  miserable  Nun's  apparent  blandishments 
were  obviously  designed  as  a  contrt^Ht  to  the  Pretre'e 
terrific  impudence,  to  effect  by  vitiating  and  seducing 
wiles  that  which  could  not  be  achieved  by  intimi- 
dation ;  so  that  fron^  fear  of  him,  I  might  be  ensnared 
by  her ;  or  if  I  resisted  her  entanglements,  that  I  might 
be  entrapped  by  his  artful  and  various  snares. 

The  Jesuit  constantly  had  two  topics  with  which  to 
daunt  me.  My  well  known  heresy,  and  the  dreadful 
sentence  of  excommunication,  which  he  ever  portrayed 
in  the  most  appalling  features  and  from  which,  his  grand 


f 


1  f 


ii 


f 


«  V 


-    -|||.-  .**  !i|l|li«iP||l|i  I     I    I  ~* 


\r 


1,^ 


122 


'y^ 


'w 


object  was  to  show,  that  I  could  be  relieved  solely  by  his 
meaiu.  and  therefore  I  ou^t  to  secure  his  favorable  . 
interposition,  the  terms  and  price  of  which  I  knew. 
My  principles  I  defended .  The  censures  of  his  Church 
I  ridiculed.  At  his  favor  I  scoffed.  And  |n  reference  * 
to  his  excoininunication,  I  remarked — "lam  in  your 
power ;  imprisoned  in  the  maniac's  ceil ;  weakened  by 
continual  privations  and  uninterrupted  ill  usage.  You 
can  forcibly  outrage  and  violate  my  person ;  you  can 
deprive  me  of  my  faculties;  or  you  can  secretly  mur-  - 
der  me :  but  you  can  neither  stiipify  my  conscience, 
nor  corrupt  my  heart."  At  other  times,  he  charged 
me  with  robbirij^  his  house,  and  setting  fire  to  it.  He 
would  denounce  afi^ainHt  me  all  the  severest  punishments 
of  the  law,  and  from  those  fearful  penalties  he  engaged 
to  secure  me,  only  for  the  voluntary  sacrifice  of  my 
personal  purity.  "Nothing — I  often  remarked  to  him^ 
would  rejoice  me  so  much  as  to  be  delivered  up  to  the 
civil  authority  upon  these  charges.  In  any  possible 
emergence,  my  situation  would  be  amended.  I  might 
b<e  acquitted,  in  spite  of  all  your  arts  and  the  witnesses 
whom  you  could  suborn  to  perjure  themselves.  In  any 
case,  I  should  be  released  from  your  ungodly  fangs.  If 
they  condemned  me,  the  verdict  would  be  given  solely 
from  defect  of  evidence,  and  they  would  not  be  crimmal ;  \ 
but  you  would  be  guilty  of  wilful  murder.  At  all 
events,  I  would  rather  trust  in  the  God  of  Providence 
to  deliver  me,  who  already  once  has  mercifully  rescued 
me  from  your  wicked  contrivances,  or  evr^n  be  hanged 
in  innocence ;  than  remain  in  wretched  solitude  under 
your  dftDgeroos  control."  ' '    <!■ 


•;  ffi' 


L 


,' 


by  his 
irorable  . 
knew. 
;^hurch 
ference 
1  your 
ned  by 
You 
ou  can 
y  inur"* » 
science, 
harged 
It.  He 
hments 
ngaged 

of  my 
to  him, 

to  ihe 
lossible 

might 
itnesses 
In  any 
gs.  If 
1  solely 
mmal ; 

At  aU 
iridence 
rescued 
langed 
)  under 


s  > 


168 


■  \  1 


Tbus  pasied  my  days,  with  no  proepect  of  eicape 
£rom  my  anguish.    But  at  length,  after  suitable  prepara* 
tion,  for  form's  sake,  the  Surgeon  who  had  attended 
me  at  Lorette  was  admiued ;  and  I  wais  transferred  to 
another  apartment,  but  in  perfect  seclusion.     I  was 
speedily  after,  despatched  to  Montreal,  with  the  strictest 
injunctions  of  the  closest  confinement.    Subsequently 
I  was  remanded  to  Quebec,  and  was  introduced  to  your 
Oounsellor  ;  who,  unknown  to  you,  would  not  consent 
to  any  pacific  arrangement,  until  he  had  seen  me  and 
obtained  all  necessary  explanations  from  your  Louise 
herself.     To  his  inflexibility,  I  -owe  all  the  little  per* 
sonnl  safety  and  comfort  which  I  have  since  enjoyed. 
He  contracted  for  my  residence  in  Quebec ;  for  an 
annual  interview  with  me ;   for  the  occasional  sight  of 
me  at  the  grate ;  for  my  exemption  from  all  trouble 
and  persecution  on  account  of  my  religious  principles ; 
ibr  my  perfect  security  from  all  attempts  to  assail  my 
modesty  ;  for  the  free  use  of  writing  materials,  and  the 
undisturbed  possession  of  whatever  books  according  to 
my  desires,  he  should' procure  for  me ;  for  a  final  inter- 
view with  you,  if  practicable,  when  near  death  ;  and 
Icn  the  eventual  transmission  to  you,  of  whatever  I 
pleased  to  designate  after  my  release  from  this  vale  of 
tears.     Notwithstanding  these  privileges  were  solemnly 
guaranteed  to  me ;  yet  as  they  were  most  reluctantly 
granted,  as  I  was  denounced  as  an  mcorrigible  heretic, 
and  as  I  was  a  resident  where  every  person  was  de- 
cidedly inimical  to  me ;  my  existence  from  that  period 
was,  of  course,  an  almost  unvarying  round  of  perplex* 
Hy  and  disquietude ;  except  as  it  was  alleviated  by  tho 


*'■- 


■«^...,     '^-^.'itf^^itjSSpT- . .., 


"«*• 


mimmmmmmimim)l0frmttm»iim^!S 


■K.  ,  • 


coiutolatory  troths  of  the  Gospel  of  Ohrist.  I  was 
Inrced  to  engage  in  the  most  menial  (^ces;  and 
although  the  absolute  letter  of  your  lawyer's  compact 
was  never  so*  outrageously  infringed,  that  be  could 
properly  have  declared  that  his  silence  should  be  t«rmi« 
nated,  because  they  had  nullified  their  part  of  the 
agreement;  yet  every  cunning  artifice  was  adopted, 
that  I  might  be  induced  to  become  altogether  like  them- 
selves. 

The  interior  of  a  convent  is  the  sepulchre  qfgood- 
nesSf  and  the  cizstle  qf  misery.  Within  its  unsanC' 
tifled  domain,  youth  withers;  knowledge  is  extin- 
guished ;  usefulness  is  entombed ;  and  religion  ex- 
pires. The  life  of  a  Nun  is  a  course  of  exterior 
solemn  mummery,  from  which  all  that  is  lovely  is 
ejected ;  and  under  the  vizor  dwells  every  thing  loath- 
some  and  sorrowful.  All  that  Marguerite  implied  and 
described  to  me  is  practised ;  and  Uie  chief  solicitudes 
and  contrivances  consist  in  their  efforts  to  conceal  from 
the  world  at  large,  the  secrets  which  appertain  to 
the  direful  prison.  As  I  was  too  much  hated  to  be 
regarded  as  of  any  consequence,  and  was  so  nar- 
rowly watched  that  nothing  less  than  the  sudden 
and  unforseen  exercise  of  the  power  of  the  Goverment 
could  have  held  intercourse  with  me,  except  by  the 
cursory  recognition  and  the  annual  interview  with 
your  counsellor  and  friend  on  each  New  Year's  day, 
and  this  only  in  the  piesence  of  the  Superieure ;  no 
opportunity  was  afforded  me  to  make  any  communi. 
cation,  except  in  the  packet  sealed  for  you,  and  which 
the  lawyer  was  bound  to  reserve  until  my  decease^ 


■•■^'Htk^^nm-'^k 


1 1 


I  was 

;  and 

impact 

could 

termi- 

of  the 


e  them- 

fgood- 
uneanC' 
8  extin- 
pon  ex- 
exterior 
lovely  is 
ng  loath' 
)lied  and 
slicitudes 
eal  from 
ertain  to 
ed  to  he 
80  nai- 
i  sudden 
overment 
t  hy  the 
Lew  with 
jar's  day, 
ieure;  no 
tmmuni. 
id  which 
decease.. 


id5 

However,  lioy  life  was  not  so  fraught  with  angoith  as 
might  have  been  anticipated  ;  not  from  any  defect  ill 
(heir  torturous  ingenuity  to  diminish  itii  comforts  and  to 
aggravate  its  hardships ;  but  I  had  found  <*  the  peafi 
of  great  price ;"  and  in  him  1  found  a  never  failing 
and  unchangeable  friend.    Often  have  I  experienced 
the  fulfilment  of  the  promise  ;  "  as  thy  days  are,  90 
shall  thy  strength  be :"  and  I  can  testify,  during  the 
tedious  years  of  my  bondage  and  imprisonment  within 
the  walls  of  the  Nunnery,  that  the  word  of  the  Lord 
is  true  ;  "  I  will  never  leave  thee,  nor  forsake  thee.'' 
The  benevolence  of  your  Counsellor  towards  me  in  no 
point  of  view  was  more  advantageous,  than  in  the 
absolute  claim  which  he  made,  that  I  should  be  at 
liberty  to  peruse  the  Bible,  and  any  other  books  which 
I  could  procure.     He  always  presented  me  a  few  VO' 
himesupon  his  visit  in  exchange  for  others  ;  the  whole 
of  which  books  will  be  your  portion  as  remembrancers 
of  your  Louise.     To  adjust  this  point  involved  great 
difiicukies.     The  Bishop  and  the  Chaplain,  with  the 
other  Priests,  by  every  species  of  crafty  mana^ment, 
endeavored   to  cancel   this  clause    of   the   contract. 
Rohoirsic  was  immovable.     "1  am  willing — he  sternly 
remarked — that  f mother  persons  shnll  even  lie  acquaint- 
ed with  the  fact  that  Louise  poHsesses  those  books ; 
but  I  never  will  consent,  that  she  shall  be  divested  of 
all  printed  ussociates,  when  a  living  companion  cannot 
be  found  for  her."     His  peremptory  tone,  in  connection 
with  their  dread  lest  their  ungodlinesss  hould  be  pr«- 
mulged,   finally   urged    their    compliance    with  his 
vexatious  demand.  '--■■      - ^  i  ' »  »*^ 


\ 


.. 


*Jf??"^''f  ^'ii 


11 


*f*fcr'*''^'rtP'1 


m 


i 

i 


V    i 


12G  . 

The  most  painful  of  all  my  mental  exercises  flowed, 
not  only  from  my  being  so  completely  isolated,  but 
also  from  the  contempt  with  wliich  all  the  inhabitants  of 
the  convent  incessantly  assailed  me.     Age  and  youth, 
mock  gravity   with  thoughtless  levity,  hypocritical 
grimace  and  open  indulgence,  infidel  hardihood  with 
ceremonial  apishness,  the  Jesuit  Chaplain's  insolence, 
with  that  of  his  associated   visiting  Priests,  the  mimic 
affectation  of  the   iieligieuses,  and  the  authoritative 
malignity  of  the  Superieure,  all  were  ever  arrayed 
against  your  defenceless  sister.    This  was  the  most 
difficult  of  all  my  conquests.     Their  stupid  pretences  at 
an  argument  did  not  in  the  least  disturb  me.    Their  de* 
Dunciation  of  judgments  against  all  heretics  served 
equally  to  show  their  ignorance  and  bigotry,  and  only 
excited  my  compassion.     AnC  nven  their  tasks,  severe 
as  they  sometimes  were,  tended  to  encourage  my  forti* 
tude  and  produce  additional  energy.     But  when  the 
youth  who  VK^ere  taught  and  actuated  by  them,  many 
of  whom  doubtless  were  their  own  daughters,  all  ccm- 
bined  to  point  the  finger  of  scorn  and  to  spurn  at  me 
with  their  puny  raillery,  then  I  have  felt  mortified 
and  excited.     To  master  this  lesson  required   much 
time  ;  but  one  of  my  best  supports  while  acquiring  it, 
next  to  the  truth  of  the  sacred  oracles,  was  the  lawyer's 
assurance,  that  my  brother  and  Chretien  remained 
steadfast  and  immovable  int  he  faith  and  hope  of  the 
Saviour.     Eventually,  however,  I  was  enabled  to  van- 
quish all  my  arrogant  sensibilities ;  and  as  the  Psalmist 
observes,  I  hope,  in  some  measure,that  "  I  behaved  and 
quieted  myself  as  a  child  that  is  weaned  of  his  mother ; 


. .-'  / 


f 
•  -J 


'"►*»¥«1S«P)W«,- 


■*^:^*ji 


'ft 


'w-  ■  *>*\ 


owed, 
1,  but 
lilts  of 
^outh, 
;ritical 
\  with 
)lence, 
mimic 
ritative 
rrayed 
e  nioet 
nces  at 
leir  de- 
served 
id  only 
,  severe 
ly  forti- 
len  the 
I,  many 
ill  ccm- 
I  at  me 
nortified 
much 
iring  it, 
awyer's 
imained 
e  of  the 

to  van- 
Psalmist 
Lved  and 

mother  \ 


m-- 


>>^i 


♦v 


n7 

my  soul  was  even  as  a  weaned  child."  From  that 
period,  I  was  enabled  to  cost  myself  and  all  my  cares 
tmreservedly  upon  the  Lord.  The  language  of  David 
was  my  uniform,  and  I  think,  my  predominant  feel- 
ing— "  My  soul,  wait  thou  only  upon  God ;  for  my  ex- 
pectation is  from  him  He  only  is  my  rock  and  my 
solvation."  1  had  yielded  up  my  brother;  and  with 
you,  I  resigned  ail  that  had  ever  truly  cemented  me 
with  earth.  My  constant  prayer  ascended  to  our 
Father  in  heaven  for  grace  for  myself,  that  i  might 
forbear  and  l)ear  all  that  God  permitted  ;  and  for  you, 
that  when  we  ceased  to  live  in  this  world,  we  might 
liave  our  eternal  "  inheritance  among  the  sanctified." 

It  Is  difficult  to  enumerate  the  varied  causes,  attri- 
butes and  effects  of  delirium  ;  but  I  am  convinced, . 
tliat  the  whole  conventual  system  involves  a  species  of 
infatuation  borderuig  on  lunacy,  unless  it  is  more 
appropriately  transferred  to  vice.  Jesuitical  artifices 
and  seductions,  by  which  persons  are^insnared,  may 
mislead  and  enchain  ignorant  and  inexperienced  youth 
into  monastic  life,  as  no  doubt  they  would  have  entan- 
gled your  Louise,  had  not  Marguerite  premonished  me. 
To  a  junior,  whom  the  Priests  and  Nuns  are  anxious 
to  cajole,  nothing  can  surpass  their  enticements. 
Youth  merely  glance  at  the  surface,  and  all  appears 
robed  in  the  very  witchery  of  delight.  To  them  a 
Nunnery  seems  the  haven  of  quietude,  the  garden  of 
an  earthly  paradise,  and  the  sanctuary  of  all  that  is 
devotional  and  spiritual.  The  scene  is  a  genuine 
iheatrical  exhibition,  in  which  the  actors  appear  to  be 


!1 


*^ty 


•'■<;at"f»**Hi&\ 


12& 


^ 


dMoratad  in  all  the  grander  characteristics  of  humanity; 
developing  its  loftiest  conceptions,  and  its  most  refined 
emotions.  Those  Postulanfes  and  Novices  alone  who 
are  previously  prepared,  are  admitted  to  survey  the 
interior.  The  blasphemy,  the  wretchednesH,  the  coarse 
manners,  the  shameless  loquacity,  and  the  bare  faced 
sacrifices  of  truth  and  virtue,  all  are  obncured,  until 
the  pasties  either  already  have  engaged,  or  are  willing 
unscrupulously  to  mingle  with  the  others,  in  their  hypo- 
critical sanctity  and  sensual  indulgences.  But  the 
toilsome  uniformity  of  the  monastic  life  renders  it  still 

,  more  objectionable  in  principle,  and  insupportable  ia 
experience.  The  unchanging  routine  of  daily  cere- 
monial  forms,  equally  unintelligible  and  unmeaning, 
only  increased  or  diminished,  according  to  the  estab- 
lished  prescriptions,  counteracts  nil  moral  and  intellect 

Vtual  energy.  This  deadening  ^iy^tem  wa»  more  odious 
to  me,  because  it  opposed  all  my  views  ;  and  the  para- 
lyzing  routine  of  the  convent  was  augmented  by  my 
alienation  even  from  the  only  alternations  that  relieved 

.  the  dullness  of  the  tedious  hours.  lUie  ordinary  course 
of  a  Nun  is  not  less  indefensible  upon  physical,  than 
upon  moral  principles.  But  if  is  the  high  curse  of 
popery y  that  it  adapts  itself  to  every  cliaracter  however 
unseemly,  and  to  air  conditions  ho  ever  unnatural. 
By  its  dispensing  qualifications,  it  is  not  only  accom- 
modated to  each  individual,  but  it  can  be  suited  to  every 
possible  emergency.  It  can  abrogate  all  lawp,  trans- 
form vice  into  virtue  relax  it  sclainis  when  a  Priest  re- 
quires gratification ;  increase  its  demands  when  a  Jesuit 
desires  revenge ;  and  by  its  variety  of  a)i|tamp.rpho6es, 


..J-:-'... 


y^ .,.-^.- 


•i... 


inity.. 

fined 
who     * 

^  the 

/Oarsc    «t 

faced 
until 

billing 

hypo- 
It  the 

it  Btill 

ible  in 

'  cere-    . 

aning, 
eetab* 

itellec- 
odious 

e  pnra- 

by  my 

elieved 
course 
than 
ifse  of 
owevei* 
latural. 
accom- 
o  every 
trans- 
nest  re- 
ft Jesuit 
phoses, 


129 


can  command  what  it  lisU; :  and  in  its  plenitude  of 
power,  will  juotify  those  who  obey  its  orders  in  any 
rebellious  act  against  God,  and  in  all  heinous  crimi- 
nality towards  man.  The  dull  monotony  of  the 
Nunnery  was  also  very  pernicious  to  my  health  and 
constitution ;  because  I  had  no  stated  periods  of  air 
and  proper  exercise  allotted  to  me.  To  understand  the 
views  of  the  world  without  was  prohibited  to  your 
Louise.  If  any  article  of  information  became  known 
to  me,  it  was  accidental ;  and  to  all  intents,  I  was 
immured  in  a  large  dungeon,  with  no  expectation  of 
amendment  or  release,  and  with  no  earthly  companion 
from  whom  I  could  experience  the  least  sympathy,  ex- 
cept when  the  lawyer  presented  me  his  New  Year's 
congratulations;  and  with  Rosolace,except  in  the  Scrip- 
tures and  at  the  throne  of  grace.  In  all  my  variety  of 
grief,  however,  I  found  an  assured  refuge  in  God,  who 
had  60  mercifully  delivered  me,  and  who  often  by  his 
spirit,  transformed  the  gloom  of  my  dreary  solitude  into 
the  very  light  of  life,  and  devout  communion  with  him 
and  with  Jesus  Chriet  our  Lord. 

The  delineation  of  one  day  in^,  the  convent  will 
give  you  a  history  of  the  whole,  with  very  Uttle  altera- 
tion. While  the  Religieuses  and  their  dependents 
were  mumbling  over  their  Ave  Marys,  and  theii  matin 
rosaries,  I  read  my  Bible,  and  attempted  to  pray  to 
the  Father  of  Light,  ihe  Giver  of  every  good  and 
perfect  gift.  In  reference  to  their  food,  I  was  obliged 
to  partake  according  to  their  unscriptural  and  absurd 
customs;  but  this  I  considered  to  be   uuimportanL 


XX.*. 


f 

I 


=S>»" 


■^^y;: 


130 

Their  idolatrous  festivals  to  me  were  days  of  real  en- 
joyment, because  while  undergoing  their  pretended 
penance,  or  revelling  in  their  sensuality,  1  was  left 
alone.  In  the  same  manner,  when  they  were  engag- 
ed at  theii  vespers,  I  occupied  the  evening  hour  in  niy 
humble  devotions.  The  genuine  characteristics  of 
monastic  life  chiefly  vary  with  the  constitutional  tem- 
peraments of  the  Nuns,  all  which  are  as  accurately 
known  to  the  Priests  as  themselves.  By  their  artifices 
at  confession,  they  unravel  every  character,  and  trans- 
form each  individual  into  an  instrument  to  subserve 
their  unholy  designs.  However  dissonant  in  temper 
and  pursuit,  all  are  moulded  according  to  the  Pretre'e 
will.  A  Jesuit  Priest  can  form  no  correct  idea  of  re< 
lationsbips.  His  whole  soul  is  centered  in  himself  and 
in  his  craft.  To  him  all  the  tender  charities  of  Hfe 
are  utterly  unknown  :  and  as  his  assumed  religion  is 
nothing  more  than  a  cloak  to  deceive  the  v/orld,  and 
imder  its  concealment  to  gratify  his  own  " .  .shes,  the 
practice  of  confession  enables  him  to  grasp  every  thing 
which  he  may  choose.  My  knowledge  of  them  con- 
vinces me,  that  very  few  Roman  Priests  indeed  now 
exist,  who  are  not  determined  infidels.  This  doctrind 
they  teach  their  besotted  dirciple^^,  especiiilly  the  girls, 
whom  when  young,  they  mark  for  their  ^rey.  In 
every  form,  they  ascertain  their  ruling  dispositions ;  as 
they  grow  up,  they  gradually  acquire  over  them  a  com- 
plete ascendancy,  behave  to  them  with  a  familiarity 
apparently  only  paternal,  imbue  them  with  all  over- 
powering ideas  of  their  priestly  indisputable  authority, 
iafuse  a  high  estimate  of  the  value  of  their  pardon  of 


\ 


%■ 


131 

aiu,  and  of  the  absolute  necessity  of  obedience  to  them 
in  all  things,  attract  their  regard  and  affection  by 
trifling  presents,  accompanied  with  tender  endear- 
xnents  ;  and  then  with  the  aid  of  their  female  seduc- 
ing adepts,  find  the  deluded  silly  creature  an  easy  and 
willing  victim.  Often  are  the  young  women  made  to 
believe,  that  they  are  an  inferior  race  to  the  men,  and 
only  created  to  administer  to  their  enjoyments,  that  all 
their  friends  and  relatives  are  equally  frail,  submissive 
and  attached  tot  he  Pretres,and  in  caseof  obstinate  resis- 
tance, then  they  are  reminded  of  all  the  matters  which 
they  have  acknowledged  at  confession,  and  menaced 
with  a  public  exposure  of  crimes,  of  which  not  only 
were  they  incapable  of  being  guilty,  but  of  which  they 
had  never  heard,  nor  formed  an  idea.  This  is  the 
general  result  of  the  horrible  system  of  confession. 
Artful  questions  are  asked,  the  purport  of  which  an 
innocent  girl  does  not  even  comprehend.  She  learns, 
however,  from  the  Priest,  that  she  has  acknowledged 
the  commission  of  sins,  for  which  she  is  directed  to 
perform  an  impracticable  penance.  This  only  adds 
to  her  perplexity,  and  to  escape  from  her  dilemma,  she 
finally  commutes  her  penance,  by  actually  participat- 
ing with  the  Pretre  in  that  crime^  which  he  alone  had 
taught  her. 

In  the  immortality  of  the  soul,  the  resurrection  of 
the  body,  and  the  future  judgment,  none  of  the  Nuns 
whom  I  ever  heard  tjilk  at  all  believed,  except  a  few, 
who  for  their  gratuitous  austerities  and  reserve  were 
considered  as  gloomy  fanatics,  and  who  were  humored 


*(|^ , 


W^ 


"9''  y-~^  '" 


132 


."•%  ^', 


ih: 


iu  their  own  pursuits.  It  is  one  chief  part  of  the 
mystery  of  iniquity,  that  the  Priests,  knowing  all  the 
women's  characters,  and  inchnations,  and  doings,  re- 
tain them  all  in  subjection  from  fear  of  each  other, 
and  thus  unconsciously,  and  doubtless  often  unin- 
tentionally, they  assist  the  grand  scheme  of  luxurious 
pleasure  and  priestly  aggrandizement.  Their  con- 
scientious principles,  so  far  as  they  have  any,  their 
moral  habits  <'ind  predilections,  and  their  sincerity  and 
usefulness,  all  are  absorbed  in  a  degrading  sense  of 
inferiority,  and  in  a  profound  subjection  to  priestly  ar- 
rogance and  enticements ;  for  of  tender,  afTectiouale, 
and  domestic  relative  sensibilities,  they  aie  totally 
divested. 

The  seclusion,  inactivity,  and  nervous  depression 
which  I  experienced,  were  unfavorable  to  my  health  ; 
and  the  symptoms  of  constitutional  debility  that  I 
began  to  manifest,  were  viewed  with  avowed  satisfac- 
tion, both  by  the  Nuns  and  the  Priests.  After  I  had 
been  their  prisoner  about  seven  years,  I  perceived  thai 
the  derangement  of  my  bodily  system  rendered  me 
more  susceptii-le  of  imaginative  impressions,  and  less 
capable  of  the  services  which  1  had  been  coerced  to  per- 
form. The  change  however  was  very  gradual;  but 
on  the  eighth  anniversary  of  the  Counsellor's  visit,  he 
tenderly  noticed  my  emaciated  appearance ;  and  upon 
hearing  the  report  of  the  Physician,  whom  he  directed 
to  examine  my  state,  he  became  convinced,  that  I 
should  at  no  very  distant  period  dwindle  into  "the 
house  appointed  for  all  living."  .. 


!/ 


-•lIK 


\    » 


133 


Several  months  passed  away  witbout  any  perceptible 
alteration,  until  one  morning  I  was  suddenly  summon- 
ed into  tbe  Superieure's  apartment ;  and  tbere  to  my 
joyful  surprise,  and  it  was  a  perfect  cordial  to  my  beart, 
I  beheld  my  friend  Rohoirsic.  After  kindly  expressing 
his  delight  that  [  appeared  unchanged — "  I  have  visit- 
ed you,  Louise— he  remarked — to  propose  to  you  a 
change  of  habitation  for  a  short  period.  You  will  live 
exactly  the  same  ;  but  fresh  air  may  benefit  you.  I 
trust  that  you  will  have  no  objection."  To  his  offer  I 
replied — "I  am  not  my  own  director;  you  know 
who  manages  my  concerns,  I  never  did.  To  me  the 
place  of  residence  is  immaterial,  as  long  as  I  am  under 
your  kind  surveillance." — Rohoirsic  gave  me  bis  hand, 
while  he  nodded  a  smiling  assent. — "  Air,  medicine 
and  exercise — I  added — all  will  be  too  late  applied  to 
restore  my  dilapidated  constitution  :  and  even  could 
(hey  be  essentially  beneticial,  except  as  it  is  our  duty 
to  use  every  means  to  prolong  life  for  Ui^efulness  in 
the  Lord's  service  ;  to  a  child  ')f  sorrow  and  of  soli- 
tude, like  me,  without  any  opportunity  to  do  good,  or 
the  hope  of  ever  attaining  any  capacity  for  it,  mere 
bodily  rehef  is  unavailing."  The  lawyer  rejoined — 
"  To  benefit  you  exclusively,  is  not  our  design.  You 
may  very  essentially  serve  a  fellow  creature  in  great 
and  peculiar  distress.  Agonized  in  mind,  and  diseased 
in  her  frame,  she  wishes  for  a  kindly  attendant,  and  it 
is  believed  that  you  will  exactly  suit.  You  will  be  re- 
quired to  execute  no  menial  or  disagreeable  offices.  On- 
ly two  things  are  claimed  of  you,  that  you  shall  divulge 
nothing  that  you  see  or  hear,  even  to  the  Superieure ; 


,:V 

x 

4r  ' 

1 

- 

'     ^; 

•in 


KM 


.'       I 


iiiimiwi .  iiuiimi  iiwMi 


H  >. 


i 


m 


134 

liei'e  he  tenderly  pressed  my  hand,  with  a  look  of  af* 
fectionate  regard — and  that  you  shall  n^ake  no  atteiupt 
to  escape  from  my  superintendence."      An  unwonted 
smile  almost  unconsciously  overspread  ray  face  at  this 
novel  exaction,  while  I  snid  to  him — "  The  last  require- 
ment, you  may  be  fully  assured,  I  shall  never  trans* 
gress.    That  you  have  so  long  and  faithfully  interested 
yourself  for  me  is  one  of  the  'strongest  consolations  in 
reference  to  earth  and  time,  and  the  loss  of  the  same 
care  and  kindness  would  be  my  death-stroke.     With 
regard  to  the  question  of  my  removal,  I  shall  leave  the 
<lecision  of  it  to  yourself,  as  the  only  competent  judge." 
"  Point  du  tout ;  not  at  all — answered  Rohoirsic — it 
is  altogether  a  matter  of  sensibility.      You  are  re- 
quested to  performan  act  of  charity  towards  an  elderly 
woman,  who,  it  is  presumed,  cannot  long  survive  the 
combined  ravages  of  a  bodily  consumption  and  mental 
grief.     By  your  sympathies,  you  may  be  able  to  sooth 
her  in  her  pains,  and  to  allay  the  pungent  bitterness 
under  which  she  appears  to  labor.     No  person,  there- 
fore, is  so  good  a  judge  as  yourself,  whether  your  feel- 
ings will  admit  you  to  undertake  the  office  proposed." 
I  replied — "  My  feelings  promptly  decide  me  to  un- 
dertake all  practicable  duties,  however  self-denying,  if 
I  can  impart  comfort  to   any  person,    letting  aside 
these  personal  considerations,  what  do  you  advise  me  ?" 
The  Superieure  here  impertinently  obtruded  her  re- 
.  marks.     "It  is  prefijrable  for  you  to  go,  Louise;  there 
are  peculiar  leasons  which  cannot  now  be  communica- 
ted, to  induce  your  compliance   with  this  request." 
Bohoirsic  pressed  my  hand,  and  to  my  inquiring  look 


■•■»^.,.-*-^.-»-^*-"*t:+^'?;^w^"^  •>■*,., 


:  f 


>k  of  af- 
)  atteiupt 
n  won  ted 
e  at  thie 
require- 
jr  trans- 
nterested 
ations  in 
he  same 
I.     With 
leave  tlie 
t  judge." 
)irsic — it 
are  re- 
n  elderly 
rvive  the 
d  mental 
s  to  sooth 
)itterne3S 
n,  there- 
^our  feel- 
roposed." 
e  to  un- 
nying,  if 
ng  aside 
ise  nie?" 
I  her  re- 
je;  there 
imunica- 
request." 
ring  look 


135 


silently  bowed  his  head.  Upon  which  I  immediately 
answered — "  De  tout  mon  coeur,  with  all  my  heart,  i 
shall  be  ready :  when  ?"  After  a  pause  of  considera- 
tion, Rohoirsic  addressed  the  Superieure — "  I  shall  be 
here  in  the  morning  at  five.  You  will  remember, 
that  Louise  must  take  with  her  all  her  books  and  per- 
sonal conveniences."  With  a  haughty  air,  the  Supe- 
rieure  answered — "  Tertement,  certainly.  I  shall  take 
care  that  Louise  is  deprived  of  nothing  which  she 
desires  to  remove." 

As  soon  as  Rohoirsic  had  withdrawn,  I  was  com 
aianded  with  a  forbidding  chilliness  to  expedite  my 
arrangements,  and  in  the  most  perfect  secresy ;  that  no 
person,  except  the  Superieure,  might  know  of  my  de- 
parture.    Precisely  at  the  hour,  just  before  the  dawn  of 
day,  my  friend,  your  counsellor  appeared.     1  present- 
ed the  Superieure  my  adieu  ;  and  never  since  have  I 
beheld  her  or  the  detested  convent.    On  the  third  evening 
I  was  inclosed  within  the  walls  of  the  Nunnery  at 
Trois  Rivieres.     During  the  journey,  Rohoirsic  much 
gratified  me  by  the  information  which  he  imparted. 
"  You  will  be  entirely  unknown,  Louise — he  assured 
me — ^you  are  represented  to  the  Superieure  at  Three 
Rivers,  not  as  an  excommunicated  incorrigible  apostate- 
from  their  Church,  to  be  scorned  and  loathed,  but  as  a 
hereditary  heretic  to  be  pitied.     Indeed  your  case  is 
stated  to  be  hopeless ;  but  it  is  extenuated  on  account  of 
very  peculiar  griefs,  which  have  riveted  your  wrong 
opinions,  so  that  although  you  are  very  sensible  upon 
£dl  other  matters  and  inofiecsiTe  as  a  child  \  yet  upon 


*> 


.■  \ 


'.I 


4-' 


'-^    !!■  r  n»  rt,  mill 


—  f  ►*.-*#iir^'J'*»t-  ~|  ."  •►f^^^'.H  rff,   .       •.!...■■■'■*•-».  -f^-^n''  ■••4.,i,,',-r«r'->>> 


->;•  i-j;-:,-  -:f-:,    TR 


; 


136 


the  subject  of  religion,  you  ara  flighty,  very  stubborn; 
and  consequently  must  be  left  alone.  The  Superieure 
has  been  apprized,  that  you  never  mention  your  opinions, 
unless  other  persons  thoughtlessly  introduce  any  objec- 
tions to  them ;  and  upon  this  point  she  is  cautioned  upon 
no  pretext,  to  have  any  intercourse  with  you.  The 
lady  also  who  wishes  for  your  company  has  been  in- 
structed to  believe,  that  you  are  naturally  very  kind, 
and  that  your  acceptance  of  the  proposal  would  prove, 
that  you  would  not  be  insensible  to  her  necessities  and 
sorrows."  1  was  received  with  much  cordiality.  My 
protector  before  he  left  the  convent,  thus  addressed 
me — "  You  will  inform  the  Superieure  without  hesita- 
tion of  your  wants  ;  in  the  supply  of  which  you  will 
be  aiipiy  indulged.  Some  trifles  have  been  provided 
for  you,  which  are  already  in  your  proposed  apartment. 
I  shall  see  you  during  the  holidays — he  kindly  pressed 
my  hand — till  then,  adieu  !"  .        -  •  %^ 


Since  I  was  forced  away  from  you,  my  brother,  this 
was  the  conunencenient  of  the  only  truly  peaceful 
part  of  the  years  which  have  elapsed.  The  journey 
had  refreshed  my  spirits,  and  the  change  was  other- 
wise beneficial.  1  encountered  no  vexatious  interrup- 
tions. I  vva!4  not  encircled  by  discordant  inmates.  I 
received  no  insults.  I  was  exempt  from  fatiguing 
duties,  which  were  too  laborious  for  my  strength,  and 
oppressive  upon  my  spirits.  And  for  a  short  season,  I 
was  in  personal  comfort  and  tolerable  health.  Often 
have  I  endeavored  to  transcribe  my  occasional  memo- 
randa ;  but  the  int«rnal  conflict  produced  almoei  too 


I 


-t  -  /. 


9    .-      .     .     . 


V^f 


•■vi:; 


ibborD; 
(crieure 
nnioDs, 
^  objeo 
idupon 
.    The 
een  in- 
y  kind, 
1  prove, 
ties  and 
y.    My 
Idressed 
t  hesita' 
you  will 
provided 
^rtment. 
pressed 


■•f  % 


her,  this 
peaceful 
journey 
,8  other- 
nterrup- 
ates.  I 
uiguiiig 

th,  and 

leason,  I 

Often 

memo- 
niosi  too 


■%■  '■    ' 


137 

much  agitation  for  the  task,  so  that  you  must  be  con- 
tented with  a  very  imperfect  detail.  There-  are  emo- 
tions which  no  genius  can  describe,  and  sympathied 
which  no  artist  can  depict.  "Whether  the  Superieurft 
was  truly  acquainted  with  any  part  of  ray  history,  1 
could  never  ascertain.  She  was  ever  kind,  but  ex- 
tremely guarded  ;  and  always  conducted  herself  as  if 
she  was  implicitly  bound  to  comply  with  the  direction^ 
of  the  Bishop  and  his  Vicar-General,  to  whom  sh6 
professed  canonical  obedience.  Three  days  elapsed 
ere  1  was  informed  of  the  actual  object  of  my  transfet 
to  Three  Rivers.  The  Superieure  requested  my  com- 
pany, to  walk  with  her  in  the  garden  of  the  convent  w 
enjoy  the  serenity  of  a  beautiful  afternoon  ;  and  wlieil 
we  were  entirely  secluded  in  an  alcove  from  all  observa* 
tion ;  she  remarked — "I  suppose,  Louise,  that  you  have 
been  informed  for  what  purpose  you  have  been  transfer- 
fed  to  ray  care  ?"  My  reply  was — "1  understand  that  t  * 
have  been  requested  to  aid  in  alleviatinjf  the  sorrows  o{ 
a  female  valetudinarian."  She  then  inquired — "  Are 
you  still  willing  to  accept  the  office  which  your  friend 
assigned  you  ?"  To  this  question,  I  answered — "  t 
am  desirous  to  know  the  precise  duties  which  will  de- 
volve upon  me.  Any  thing  which  1  can  do  I  shall 
willingly  undertake,  but  I  cannot  assume  laborioue 
services  for  which  I  am  incompetent."  l^he  Superieure 
subjoined — "  Your  only  employ  will  be  to  attend  upoa 
the  lady  ;  and  if  you  can  effect  that  desirable  object« 
to  diminish  her  mysterious  and  deep-rooted  sadness. 

In  what  method  that  can  he  most  effectually  securedi 

12 


■IS 


^ 


«pp 


138 


h 


Ki 


f   . 


^I>' 


'■k%t 


U  lefit  to  your  judgment  and  experience.  You  will  be 
ftt  liberty  to  sleep  in  her  apartment  or  not,  at  your 
pption.  A  servant  is  expressly  designated  to  wait  upon 
you.  The  only  injunction  which  I  am  commanded  to 
enforce  upon  you  is  this — that  you  are  neither  to  con- 
Terse  with  the  lady  when  the  servant  is  present,  nor  to 
communicate  either  to  her  or  even  to  me  what  your 
companion  may  confide  to  you."  I  felt  embarrassed 
with  this  condition,  and  replied — "  I  am  inexperienced, 
and  may  want  advice  and  assistance,  to  whom  shall  I 
appeal  ?"  The  Superieure  remarked — "  It  is  not  possi- 
ble that  any  circumstances  can  arise,  which  in  this 
respect  will  require  the  interposition  of  a  third  person. 
In  all  cases  which  refer  to  her  health,  the  attending 
pjhysician  will  be  consulted ;  and  concerning  your  per- 
sonal comforts,  you  will  always  recur  to  me,  and  I 
shall  take  care  that  not  only  every  want  shall  be  sup- 
plied, but  all  your  wishes  shall  be  fully  indulged."  To 
tiiis  arrangement  I  consented ;  upon  which  she  instant^ 
1y  arose,  placed  a  letter  in  my  hand,  and  as  she  was 
letiring,  she  added — "  I  shall  join  you  in  an  hour — but 
remember  inviolable  secrecy  must  be  maintained  ]" 
and  she  returned  to  the  convent.  ^ J^  , 

My  attention  was  instantly  directed  to  the  seal  and 
superscription,  and  I  fancied  that  they  were  the  same 
vriih  which  you  and  I  had  formerly  been  so  molested. 
The  conviction  of  their  identity,  as  more  accurate 
sbrutiny  confirmed  my  opinion,  almost  overpowered  me 
with  the  portentous  dread  of  some  new  indefinable 
e&lamity.     Tears  partially  relieved  me,  and  with  as 


i 

i 


^r-^. 


\l 


t  youT 
it  upon 
idedto 
to  Goa- 
,  nor  to 
it  your 
irrassed 
rienced, 
lehalll 
)t  possi- 
in  this 
person. 
Ltending 
our  per- 
I,  and  1 
be  sup- 
.»    To 
instant- 
ehe  was 
>ur — but 
tained  f 


seal  and 

he  same 

nolested. 

accurate 

ered  me 
definable 

with  as 


13^  • 

much  composure  as  I  could  assume,  I  commended  my* 
self  to  God,  and  earnestly  implored  his  guidance  and 
support  in  this  novel  perplexity.  My  mind  was  en- 
couraged, and  the  recoUectttn  of  his  past  goodness 
fortified  me.  I  realized  that  worse  evils  than  thos^ 
which  1  already  escaped,  could  nut  befal  me;  and  the 
additional  confidence  which  I  reposed  in  your  lawyer, 
as  the  instrument  in  the  hands  of  Divine  Providence 
to  guard  and  superintend  my  welfare,  strengthened 
me.  You  will  easily  sympathize  with  me,  my  brotheri 
when  you  peruse  the  accompanying  letter. 


:io 


To  Louise  M.  ' '^ 

"  How  shall  I  address  you,  Louise  ?  On  a  former 
occasion  when  you  received  a  letter  from  me,  I  was 
your  tormenting  persecutor,  and  your  base  unnatural 
betrayer ;  now,  I  am  your  penitent,  broken-hearted 
mother!" 

"  Mother  I"  I  involuntarily  exclaimed  with  inex- 
pressible tremor,  for  then  in  a  moment,  all  the  horrible 
past,  with  its  inconceivably  aggravated  criminality, 
rushed  into  my  mind — "  Mother  !"  how  I  felt,  what  I 
thought,  or  even  where  I  was,  I  could  scarcely  compre- 
hend. All  were  so  commingled  in  a  species  of  tempora- 
ry  hallucination,  that  I  know  not  what  I  said  in  my 
broken  soliloquy  of  appalling  surprise.  It  is  well  that 
no  person  could  have  heard  me.  The  first  consistent 
remembrance  that  I  experienced,  was  the  precious 
appilication  to  my  soul  of  the  Lord's  words  recorded  hj 
the  prophet  Isaiah.   «  Can  a  woman  forget  her  suddng 


'^» 


h 


'«^  * 


y 


» 


1 


i^ 


••  140 

child,  that  she  should  not  have  compassion  on  her  son  i 
Yea,  they  may  forget,  yet  will  I  not  forget  thee."  It 
was  a  salutary  cordial  to  my  agitated  heart ;  and  at 
once  infused  the  idea,  th<^  I  was  thus  remarkably  ap- 
pointed  to  attend  and  support  the  enfeebled  and  dispirit- 
ed  woman  by  whom  we  had  been  dshered  into  the 
world.  Dreadful,  however,  as  were  all  the  fornter 
scenes,  and  affecting  as  our  first  interview  must 
necessarily  boi  yet  I  felt  ati  if  divested  of  a  burden, 
and  instantly  adopted  the  .resolution  to  submit  to  any 
thing  for  her  sake,  with  the  hope,  by  Divine  grace^ 
of  being  instrumental  to  her  soul's  welfare,  j^gain  I 
besought  the  Savior's  blessing  in  the  diwharge  of  theie 
unexpected  duties  ;  and  then  with  tolerable  calmriess, 
pausing  as  my  varied  excitements  impelled,  I  studied 
the  remainder  of  your  mother's  letter.  m 

She  thus  proceeded — "It  is  not  necessary  in  this 
manner  to  inform  you  of  any  particulars  with  which 
you  will  afterwards  become  acquainted.  Since  our  last 
separation,  my  life  has  been  a  term  of  wretchedness 
and  alarm,  justly  merited,  but  almost  too  great  to  be 
borne.  To  alleviate  agonies  which  have  corroded  my 
constitution,  and  which  all  other  attempts  to  diminish 
have  only  embittered,  I  some  time  since  proposed,  that 
as  lengthened  life  for  me  could  not  be  anticipated,  I 
might  have  you  for  my  companion.  With  great  diffi- 
culty the  objections  to  this  measure  were  vanquished. 
Not  that  the  persons  who  have  us  in  their  bondage 
feel  any  concern  for  our  comfort,  but  they  are  terrified 
at  all  idea  of  any  possible  mode  existing  by  which 


<> 


141 


tr. 


son? 
"  It 
nd  at 
lyap- 
ispirit- 
Lo  the 
forntei 

must 
turden, 
«  any 

grace, 

Igain  I 

)f  the^e 

iiniiess, 

studied 


in  this 
\vhich 
J  our  last 
thedness 
Sat  to  be 
ded  my 
liminish 
^,that  > 
Lipated,  I 
Ireat  diffi- 
iquished. 
bondage 
A  terrified 
Ly  which 


yoiii-  past  history  shall  be  published.  Diganu's  lisiog 
character,  and  from  his  ascertained  wealth,  his  superior 
influence  in  society,  combined  with  the  resolute  oppoei- 
tion  and  unyielding  measures  of  Rohoirsic,  have  in- 
timidated our  enemies ;  for  now,  they  are  not  less  mine 
(hanyour's!  ^  ..    v^ 

My  wishes  werec  onveyed  to  the  counsellor,  with  the 
reasons  by  which  the  plea  was  sanctioned.  The  chief 
argument  urged  against  the  design,  except  the  fear  of 
pubhcity,  was  this — ^^that  your  avowed  heretical  opinions, 
as  they  are  denominated,  precluded  all  intercourse  with 
you.  Upon  this  point,  I  fully  satisfied  the  Jesuits,  that 
although  I  was  profoundly  ignorant  of  all  that  you 
believed  and  practised  under  the  name  of  religion, 
yet  I  was  not  less  filled  with  an  unconquerable  detesta> 
tionof  themselves  and  their  priestcraft,  their  doctrines, 
superstitions,  frauds,  and  pursuits ;  that  this  aversion 
had  not  been  imbibed,  as  they  well  knew,  from  any 
person  or  book  ;  but  that  it  was  the  result  of  my  own 
refiections  in  the  dreariness  of  my  cell,  amid  the  inter- 
vals of  sickness  and  pain.  As  I  was  no  longer  deemed 
worthy  of  flattery  and  solicitation,  all  their  terrifying 
artifices  were  tried  in  vain.  I  repelled  them  with  their 
.own  weapons.  When  they  attempted  to  aftViglit  me 
with' their  excommunication,  I  ridiculed  a  menace,  all 
the  horror  of  which  they  themselves  had  extracted  :  as 
they  had  often  assured  me,  that  it  was  only  an  instru> 
ment  to  iianage  the  weak  and  silly  populace,  that 
they  may  be  cajoled  into  a  perfect  acquiescence  with 
their  authority  and  injimctions.    Sometimes  thev  de* 

12* 


■''  "J 


.  >}^' 


V 


oouQced  all  the  fires  and  tortures  of  purgatory  and  hell 
as  my  portion.  My  sole  reply  'wos  a  scornful  retort, 
(hat  they  themselves  had  often  said,  that  a  future  state 
was  all  a  fiction,  only  propagated  to  fill  a  Priest's  coffers 
with  money  and  to  terrify  the  ignorant  multitude. 
Then  they  would  declare,  that  no  Masses  should  be 
3aid  for  ray  soul.  My  answer  was  this — "  You  your- 
selves admit  that  the  Mass  is  a  contrivance  only  of  the 
Pretres  to  procure  ofierings  from  your  stupid  disciples  ; 
because  you  confess  to  each  other  your  belief  that  it  is 
impossible  for  any  reasonable  creature  to  credit  the  doc- 
trine of  transubtitantiation  ;  and  that  it  was  invented 
only  to  support  the  Priest's  power  over  the  foolish  peo- 
ple, who  are  taught  that  you  can  make  and  eat  your 
God  whenever  you  please ;  and  then  you  absolve  each 
Other  for  your  shameless  hypocrisy."  Upon  various 
occasions,  they  threatened  me  with  everlasting  burn- 
ings both  body  and  soul  at  the  future  retributbn. 
This  I  repelled,  by  assuring  them  that  they  had  often 
taught  us,  and  we  ail  supposed  their  account  to  be  true, 
that  the  doctrine  of  the  soul's  immortality,  the  resur- 
rection of  the  dead,  and  a  judgment  to  come,  and  in 
short,  that  all  their  pretended  religion  of  Jesus  Christ 
was  only  a  profitable  fable  for  the  Pope  and  the  Priests. 
But  although  I  resolutely  opposed  all  their  attempts 
longer  to  govern  me,  yet  I  was  actuated  only  by  the 
spontaneous  dictates  of  my  own  mind ;  for  I  cannot 
perceive,  that  a  religion  which  transforms  all  Society  in- 
to a  pleasure-house  for  the  indulgence  of  a  few  Pretres, 
can  be  of  any  value ;  and  my  own  experience  led  me 
to  conclude,  as  they  proclaim,  that  all  their  preteQ4;^ 


/  , 


t 


;?-       .'  '     ;1 


■n 


148 

ed  religion  is  a  fabulous  imposture.  My  natural  cou- 
fcience,  however,  was  still  partially  in  exercise.  I  was 
tossed  to  and  fro,  as  in  a  tempest.  I  could  not  undoubt- 
ingly  admit,  that  there  is  no  God,  no  eternity,  and  no 
difference  between  virtue  and  vice.  I  cannot  now  be- 
lieve,  that  the  wicked  ore  equally  good  and  estimable 
as  the  virtuous  ;  and  that  when  we  die,  all  mankind 
are  extinguished.  In  proportion  as  1  was  forced  to 
deny  the  delusive  doctrines  of  the  Pretres  and  the  Chap- 
Iain,  my  .agony  became  intense.  1  reflected  upon  what 
I  had  been  and  what  I  had  done.  My  mind  was 
totally  empty  of  all  satisfaction,  and  I  rejected  all  my 
former  deceptions,  will)  o  truth  to  enlighten  or  direct 
me.  All  my  ideas  w  ere  fraught  with  fearful  remorse 
and  withering  anguish  ;  until  a  ray  of  light  and  hope 
glimmered  over  me,  when  the  sudden  impression  first 
entered  my  mind  to  claim  your  attendance.  I  insisted, 
and  they  refused.  I  persevered,  and  they  were  obsti- 
nate. The  Counsellor  arrested  their  attention  more 
point ''dly  to  the  object  by  co-operating  with  me.  Finally 
it  was  'arranged,  that  I  should  be  removed  to  Three 
Rivers ;  and  that  you  should  meet  me  here.  My 
chief  motive,  I  confess,  was  selfish.  I  was  anxious  for 
an  associate,  in  whom  I  could  confide ;  and  from  whom, 
if  possible,  I  might  learn  the  way  to  true  repentance, 
that  I  may  die  in  feeble  hope,  if  not  in  perfect  peace. 
The  Superieure  knows  nothing  of  our  affairs,  except 
that  we  are  mother  and  daughter,  and  reputed  heretics 
who  must  be  indulged  in  our  accursed  errors,  as  the 
Priests  name  them.  We  are  also  characterized  as  two 
miserable  half  crazy  idiots,  who  for  a  long  time  have 


;•^• 


"itk.- 


144 


becai  separated;  but  whose  friends  are  so  influential, 
diat  we  must  enjoy  tender  care  and  affectionate  treat- 
ment. It  was  necessary  that  you  should  thus  be  ap- 
prised of  our  new  relationship  before  yuu  see  me;  and 
also  of  my  desires,  that  you  may  not"  recoil  with  aver- 
sion, had  you  recognised  your  former  most  unnatural, 
treacherous  and  vile  tempter.  I  can  make  you  no 
atonement  for  the  past,  nor  promises  for  the  future ; 
except  that  you  will  not  find  your  detestable  fellow- 
Crnveller  to  Jacques  (.'artier,  in 

Your  repentant  and  sorrowful  mother, 

Therese- 


i 


'•Mie  Superieure  returned  to  me  before  I  had  fully 
recovered  my  equanimity — "  Have  you  any  message 
or  communication — she  asked — for  Therese?"  In 
reply  I  stated — "Be  so  good  as  to  inform  her,  that  I 
shall  prepare  an  answer  to  her  letter,  which  shall  be 
presented  to  you  in  the  morning."  After  much  deli- 
bcratioo,  I  sealed  the  sheet  which  you  will  peruse,  my 
brother,  with  melancholy  emotions.  You  will  perceive 
that  it  is  stained  with  my  tears  and  marked  with  my 
blots.  My  agitated  spirits  did  not  permit  me  to  dwell 
upon  the  shocking  retrospect.  Besides,  our  approach- 
ing interview  and  subsequent  residence  in  the  same 
apartments  rendered  all  discussion  superfluous,  except 
those  declarations  which  were  adapted  to  prepare  the 
mind  of  Therese  for  an  amicable  reception,  and  foi 
fiiture  unreservedly  candid  intercourse.    ^*» 


X45 


my 


To  TherESE.  ^ :.;?...;  V  ;/:^  ;'  -''i'  V 

"  Tour  unexpected  letter  fills  me  with  the  utmost 
surprise,  and  excites  the  most  contradictory  emotions. 
To  find  a  mother  after  having  never  known  what  that 
endearing  word  means !  but  to  discover  my  mother 
in  you  !  Had  not  so  many  other  painful  circumstances 
authorized  your  claim,  the  fact  would  be  incredible.  I 
cannot  reproach  you.  I  pity  your  angui«h,and  most  wil- 
lingly consent  to  try  my  feeble  energies  to  relieve  it. 
But  I  must  int^ist,  that  unless  you  choose  to  detail  your 
past  history,  so  far,  that  1  may  be  able  to  understand 
in  what  way  most  effectually  to  assuage  your  sorrows, 
1  may  not  hear  any  illustrations  of  former  events,  ex- 
cept forihe  sake  of  Digaiiu.  A  penitent,  heart-broken 
mother  !  Ah,  what  do  these  epithets  convey  ?  Yet  I 
rejoice,  if  you  are  sorrowful,  that  you  are  repentant ; 
and  I  bless  God,  that  "  the  sacrifice  of  a  broken  spirit 
and  a  contrite  heart,  he  will  not  despise."  The  chief 
point  in  your  letter  is  the  information,  that  you  have 
rejected  the  Priest's  odious  doctrines  and  criminal  temp- 
tations ;  then  I  may  hope,  with  the  Divine  blessing,  to 
foe  of  some  benefit  to  you  :  and  gladly  shall  I  consecrate 
my  hours  to  promote  your  spiritual  inptruction  ano  per- 
sonal comfort.  To  be  a  blessing  to  you  in  your  decline 
will  be  ample  compensation  for  my  past  trials,  afflic- 
tions, and  disappointments.  You  representy  ourself  as  a 
very  different  person  in  appearance  from  what  you  were 
when  we  last  parted  :  and  what  is  your  Louise  ?  I  am 
told  by  Rohoirsic,  that  1  am  so  altered,  Diganu  himself 
would  scarcely  recognise  me.  I  shall  submit  myself 
entirely  to  your  control,  so  far  as  is  proper,  and  will 


if 


;t-S*«.i  .»*■*(» V 


r 


-  •",    r!l 


M 


^\-^ 


146 

endeavor,  by  tinceasing  asniduity,  to  prove  my  entire 
willingness  to  serve  you,  while  I  am  learning  the  les* 
sons  which  appertain  to  a  devoted,  faithful,  and  affec- 
tionate daughter. 

Louise.  !; 

The  reply  to  my  note  was  a  verbal  message  by  the 
Superieure — "  Therese  proposes  to  receive  you  this 
afternoon."  , 


I  knew  not  how  to  occupy  the  anxious  and  perplex- 
ing interval.    If  I  attempted  to  read  my  otherwise  most 
attractive  author,  he  interested   me  not.     My  Bible, 
"  more  to  be  desired  than  much  fine  gold>"  could  not 
fix  my  vagrant  mind.     Even  prayer  itself  did  not  al- 
lay my  feverish  emotions.    The  hours  elapsed  in  a 
round  of  capricious  fancies  which  were  destitute  of  eve- 
ry semblance  of  reality.     When  I  was  momentarily  se- 
rious, or   when  actually  offering  the  fervid  petition  to 
"  the  throne  of  grace,"  I  was  becalmed  :  but  my  roving 
imagination  instantly  passed   again   those   rational 
boundaries,  and  left  me  bewildered  in  retrospective  com- 
bii^ations,   which  you  alone,  Diganu,  can  accurately 
conceive.     As  the  hour  of  our  interview  approached,  I 
became  more  agitated  and  undeterminate  how  to  speak 
or  act.     I  could  only  trust  in  God  for  his  indispensable 
aid  and  direction.      At  last,  in  excessive  agitation,  1 
was  conducted  to  a  door  of  a  voom  by  the  Superieure — 
"  this — said  she — is  Therese's  apartment."    With  a 
languid  palpitation  of  heart,  I  advanced';  the  door  was 
dosed,  rnd  for  the  first  time,  I  was  in  the  presence  ol 
my  avowed  mother. 


»~^"r»"'-..  *».» 


■'n-'-^A'^f" 


V".i  »3^T  " 


■.'■'j.'^i  ^P 


T 


NUNNERY  AT  THREE  RIVERS. 


■".* 


.     \ 


Uon,  1 

;ure — 

ruh  a 

)r  was 

jnce  ol 


How  blest  the  Pilgrim  who  in  trouble 
Can  lean  upon  a  bosom  friend — 
Strength,  courage,  hope,  with  him  redouble, 
When  foes  assail,  or  griefs  impend. 

The  Narrative  of  Louise  next  detailed  the  account 
of  her  residence  at  Three  Rivers. 

"  Our  ignorance  of  each  other  was  mutual.  So  great 
was  the  dissimilitude  between  the  woman  who  grasped 
me  at  Lorette  and  Therese  in  the  Convent  at  Three 
Rivers,  that  I  dared  not  speak.  I  could  not  admit  the 
identity.  We  continued  to  gaze  at  each  other  iiA  joint 
surprise.  After  a  long  and  agitating  pause,  a  voice 
scarcely  human  uttered — "  Come  near  me ;  let  me  see 
if  you  are  Louise  indeed  ;  let  me  look  at  my  cross  on 
your  forehead."  The  sound,  although  sepulchral,  was 
the  same.  No  lapse  of  years  could  obliterate  the  for- 
mer words  which  she  addressed  to  the  Cure — *  come 
here ;  look  at  this  cross  on  her  forehead' !  For  a  mo- 
ment,  I  almost  fancied  myself  again  in  the  Church  at' 
Lorette,  writhing  in  all  the  agonies  of  that  tremendous 
scene.  "  Fear  not — she  presently  added — if  you  arc 
my  Louise,  I  shall  instantly  know  you,  ahbough  we 


rm,. 


^.i         _  J  ■;&!*:.;. 


-m. 


'"     jr,'*''\.A 


V'"     • 


148 


i 


cannot  recognise  each  other's  person ;  and  I  will  soon 
prove  tu  you  that  I  was  your  guilty  enemy  at  Lorette." 
Trembling,  I  obeyed  the  invitation,  and  knelt  before  her,^ 
who  was  seated  in  an  easy  chair.    She  threw  back  my 
hair,  it  was  the  same  mysterious  touch,  kissed  the 
cross,  told  me  to  rise,  directed  lue  to  a  drawer,  and 
before  my  eyes  was  the  very  same  dress  which  I  wore 
at  Lorette,   and  of  which  she  had  divested  me  im^ 
mediately  after  our  arrival  at  the  General  Hospital. 
All  incredulity  at  once  was  extinguished.     For  some 
time,  we  both  maintained  a  natural  reserve,  but  it  gra- 
dually disappeared.    She  realized  in  me  a  friend  whom 
she  had  never  before  knovvti,  and  I  found  in  Therese^ 
a  tenderness  which  I  suppose  mothers  only  can  feel 
and  display.     The  first  preliminary  to  be  adjusted 
was  the  manner  of  addressing  her.     I  could  not  adapt 
myself  to  use  the  term  mother ;  and  she  insisted,  that  I 
should  call  her  Therese,  being  the  only  appellative  to 
which  she  had  been  accustomed.     "Besides — she  re* 
marked,  weeping  with  great  perturbation — I  am  not 
worthy  of  the  respectful  and  endeared  title  of  mother. 
It  pre-supposes  a  relation  which  1  never  sustamed  to 
you,  affections  1  have  never  yet  experienced,  and  duties 
that  I  have  not  performed."  '  ^cfJ^/: 

wn^-  -■■.  ' 
Amid  all  her  dispiritude,  Therese  retained  the  Con- 
vent's acquired  sagacity, although  she  had  been  enabled 
to  discard  its  guile  ;  and  consequently  perceiving  my 
genuine  character,  she  exactly  adpated  her  measures 
according  to  her  views.  She  speedily  ascertained  that 
tn  unfold  her  own  personal  history  in  continuous  de- 


'■■['i' 


1  8000 

>rette." 

trthetf 

ickmy 

ed  the 

5r,  and 

Iwore 

ne  ini- 

[ospital. 

or  some 

t  it  gra- 

a  whom 

rherese, 

can  feel 

adjusted 

ot  adapt 

d,  that  I 

ilative  to 
she  re- 
am not 
mother, 
amed  to 
id  duties 

.•  ""l   '    i 

[he  Con  ■ 
enabled 

|ving  my 
leasures 
Ined  that 
[uons  de^i 


149 


tail,  would  be  objectionable  to  my  principles  and  feet- 
ings,  and  therefore  she  determined  to  introduce  the 
prominent  facts  of  her  life,  as  incidental  illustrations  of 
conversation,  as  they  might  successively  arise.  Our 
habits  of  living  partook  of  all  the  uniform  routine  of  th6 
Nunnery,  as  our  only  relaxation  was  a  walk  in  the 
garden,  during  which  we  were  invariably  attended  by 
our  servant.  ..  f 


Therese  almost  constantly  developed  the  same  heart- 
rending  uneasiness,  an  uninterrupted  bitter  compunc- 
tion for  her  past  actions,  an  insatiable  avidity  to  obtain 
saving  knowledge,  and  increasing  attachment  to  your 
Louise.  Her  bodily  strength  decreased  almost  imper- 
ceptibly, and  was  only  manifested  in  the  feebleness 
of  her  steps,  and  the  gradual  restriction  of  the  length 
of  our  promenade.  Until  we  became  more  unreserved, 
to  read  to  her  the  Scriptures  and  my  other  books  was 
my  chief  employ.  Sometimes  she  would  propound  a 
question  for  information,  when  she  apprehended  a  lia* 
bility  to  mistake  ;  but  generally  she  was  absorbed  in 
her  own  meditations.  The  first  exhibition  of  a  wish 
for  more  familiar  intercourse  was  a  request,  that  I 
would  communicate  to  her  the  particulars  of  my  escape 
from  the  Pretre's  house ;  and  my  subsequent  history 
while  a  resident  with  you.  "  I  have  no  wish,  Louise 
— she  added — to  distress  you  by  the  recital.  My  only 
reasons  for  desiring  you  minutely  to  retrace  your  suf- 
ferings are  these — that  thereby  I  may  more  accurately 
understand  your  mental  exercises,  and  also  promote 

Diganu'a  welfare.    I  can  gladden  you  by  the  assu^ 

13 


-^ 


150 


ranee  of  the  latter ;  and  trust,  that  I  shall  learn  some- 
thing  of  the  operations  of  conscience,  from  your  detail 
of  the  manner  in  which  truth  irradiated  your  mind." 
I  also  observed,  as  the  Scriptures  became  more  impress- 
ed upon  her  thoughts,  that  her  expressions  of  penitence 
were  more  consistent,  and  that  she  grew  in  correct 
knowledge  of  the  genuine  character  and  design  of 
Christianity.   Yet  a  soul-wringing  tone  of  def^;;{r,  and 
an  ear-tingling  expression  of  anguish  were  often  mingled 
with  all  her  penitential  acknowldgements.     While  I 
applied  the  tender  invitations  of  redeeming  mercy  to 
her  condition,  she  repelled  them.     She  thought  that 
there  was  nothing  in  the  sacred  records  which  resem- 
bled her  case ;  and  the  volume  of  Divine  love  seemed, 
in  her  apprehension,  to  be  only  the  authentic  declara- 
tion of  her  doom  to  everlasting  wo.     In  its  doctrines, 
consolations,  and  examples,  as  revealed  by  the  oracles  of 
God,  religion  appeared  too  elevated.     It  did  not  in  her 
estimate  adapt  itself  to  the  peculiar  self-abhorence 
which  she  realized  ;  and  it   propounded  no  pattern  of 
a  person  whose  trangressions  had  been  clothed  with 
enormity  similar  to  that  which  characterized  her  wick- 
edness.    Her  sorrow  for  sin,  therefore,  produced  no 
correct  confidential  petition  for  mercy.     She  dreaded 
the  indignation  of  the  Judge,  and   longed  thai  his 
wrathful  sentence  should  be  averted  ;  but  she  could 
not  admit  the  extension  even  of  the  God-like  Saviour's 
mercy  to  o.   li  a  heinous  criminal.     Upon   considering 
this  stater     ler  mind,  I  thought  that  by  distinctly  un- 
folding   ly  own  spiritual  maladies  and  the  methods  of 
cure,  r  ith  apposite  remarks,  I  might  assist  her  judg- 


4" 


151 


leiail 

press-    , 

itencc 

orrect 

gn  of 

r,  and 

ingled 

^hile  I 

ercy  to 

It  that 

resem- 

leemed, 

Jeclaia- 

jctvines, 

racles  of 
in  her 
lovence 

ilievn  of 

led  with 
wick- 
uced  no 
dreaded 
that  his 
he  could 
Saviour's 
nsidering 
nctly  un- 
lethods  of 
her  judg- 


ment, and  obtain  additional  influence  over  her.  But 
it  was  very  difli^iilt  to  decide  upon  the  most  eflicient 
means  at.^  hi.  tost  suitable  periods.  From  internal 
disquietude  and  i.ervousirritabi"  ^ ,  combined  with  her 
varying  corporeal  alternations  or  strength  and  feeble* 
uess,  and  also  from  the  remains  of  that  artificial  cha- 
racter wliich  had  previously  belonged  to  her,  Therese 
was  occasionally  captious ;  and  although  her  attach- 
ment for  me  appeared  stable  and  sincere,  yet  in  the 
exhibition  of  it,  she  was  t^onietimes  exceedingly  capri- 
cious. My  inexperience  was  often  non-plussed  in  over- 
coming her  waywardness  ;  and  it  wns  probably  almost 
impracticable  for  her  to  subdue  all  those  suspicions  of 
my  fidelity,  which  our  extraordinary  situation  could 
not  fail  to  excite.  H^'o  remove  these  inauspicious  feel- 
ing? instituted  another  argiinient  for  n^y  manifesting 
all  possible  sympathy  with  her,  by  compliance  with 
her  desires. 

She  was  also  very  solicitous  to  ascertain  how  I  began, 
to  doubt  the  infalhbility  of  the  Priests  and  t  heir  doctrines. 
This  induced  me  to  narrate  my  interview  with  the 
dying  Marguerite.  "  Ah  ! — remarked  Therese,  when 
I  had  finished — her  account  was  true.  Frequently 
did  she  admonish  me  against  my  foolish  opinions ; 
but  she  did  it  so  cautiously,  that  I  could  never  find 
any  thing  to  report  to  tbe  Priests  to  her  prejudice.  She 
was  blessed  in  her  humble  station,  for  as  she  had  no 
money  to  bestow  for  masses,  absolutions,  and  all  their 
other  Jesuitical  impostures,  they  cared  not  for  her  at- 
tendance upon  them,  and  thus  she  was  despised  as 


i*» 


aJM^. 


■^ 


..f 


162 

beneath  tbeir  8cnitin>  "  I  replied — <<  I  did  not  under- 
stand tirom  Margueritei  (hat  she  ever  had  cautioned 
and  warned  you  as  she  did  me."  Therese  answered 
— "  Not  at  all.  Had  she  told  me  thirty  years  before, 
the  same  things  which  she  addressed  to  you,  her  life 
would  have  been  the  immediate  frrfeit."  I  instantly 
demanded — "  How  then,  Therese,  could  she  have  ad- 
monished you  against  your  false  beuliments  ?"  Therese 
rejoined — "  She  discovered  my  danger,  without  doubt, 
firomthe  prior  knowledge  which  sh''  ' "^d  acquired,  and 
from  the  silly  declarations  that  I  maue.  1  used  to  teil 
her  that  we  must  not  ofifend  the  Holy  Pretres.  She 
would  look  grave,  and  ask  me,  *  whether  is  it  better  to 
please  God  or  the  Priest  V  \  would  try  to  convince  her 
that  this  was  the  same  thing.  4  piiy  you,  ma  chere, 
my  dear  ! — would  she  say — but  suppose  God  com- 
mands any  thing  and  the  Priest  forbidfe*  it ;  <>r  suppose 
the  Priest  enjoins  you  toperfoim  any  action  which 
God  prohibits,  in  tlioi^e  cases  you  cannot  plea^iC  both 
those  conflictmg  authorities.'  But  I  wtnkl  is>ay,  'your 
supposition  is  impossible,  becaui^e  the  P  iest  being  in- 
fallible, can  only  tell  us  what  God  orders,  and  we  can 
know  what  God  directs  only  by  the  Piietst's  explana- 
tion and  instructions.'  At  these  absurd  speeches  she 
would  be  silent,  or  sometimes  speak  to  herself,  and 
often  I  thought,  maugre  all  her  endeavors  to  conceal  it, 
that  I  saw  on  her  countenance  a  smile  of  unbelieving 
contempt.  I  was  then  too  ignorant  and  enslaved  to 
comprehend  her  meaning ;  now  I  should  know  its  pur- 
port." I  answered — "  When  we  correctly  examine 
ourselves  and  our  individual  responsibility,  it  is  most 
mortifying  to  human  pride,  and  indeed  almost  incredi- 


^'   *»^ 


ndci- 
ioned 
Bvered 
)efore, 
ler  life 
jtantly 
ive  ad- 
'herese 
,  doubt, 

ed,  and 
A  to  tell 
8.    She 
better  to 
iuce  her 
la  cht^vc, 

,od  corn- 
suppose 
,n  which 
jvsiC  both 

l)eing  in- 
,d  we  can 
explana- 
jches  she 
jreelf,  and 
Iconceal  it, 
(believing 
islaved  to 

,w  its  pur- 
examine 

it  is  most 
)st  incredi- 


m ' 


153 

ble,  that  any  persons  can  risk  their  eternal  salvation 
upon  such  gross  delusions."    Therese  inquired — "Did 
you  never  believe,  Louise,  that  it  is  mortal  sin  to  offend 
the  Pretres  ?"  To  this  question  I  replied — "Not  exact- 
ly in  all   its  extent.     Before  1  had  been  fully  trained, 
Marguerite  had  j]fiven  ine  some  gospel  eye-salve  which 
enabled  me  to  inspect  for  myself.     Hesitation  followed  ; 
find  the  person  who  once  begins  to  doubt  the  Priest^ 
infallible  supremacy,  speedily  rejects  all  their  abomina- 
tions.    But  was  tliere  no  other   point  on   which  she 
spoke  to  you.^"  Therese  said — "  Yes,  I  remember  once 
in  particular ;  after  I  was  boasting  of  having  been  ab- 
solved by  the  Chaplain  of  all  my  sins,  both  venial  and 
mortal,  that  Marguerite  askfed  me — 'what  is  the  differ- 
ence between  those  kinds  of  sins  V — 1  could  not  define 
my  own  notions,  which  I  had  imbiBed  from  the  Priests ; 
but  my  reply  was  to  this  effect — mortal  sins  are  those 
which  are  done  against  the  laws,  power,  and  interest 
of  our  Holy  Church  ;  and  all  other  offences  are  only 
venial  sins  which  will  be  purified  by  the  fire  of  purga- 
tory."    I  inquired — "  When  you  attempted  to  enforce 
upon  me  the  belief  of  this  blasphemous  and  polluting 
doctrine,  did  you  really  give  credit  to  it  ?"     With  'a 
groan,  and  sobbing  which  bespoke  her  internal  agony, 
Therese  rejoined — ''Certainly,  Louise.     I  was  then  so 
blinded  by  ther  deceitfulness,  so  infatuated  by  their  ar»  v 
tifices,  so  corrupted   by  habitual   ungodliness,   and  so  *  ' 
hardened  by  their  infidelity,  ceremonies,  sins,  confes- 
sions and  priestly  absolutions  ;  that  I  could  have  perpe- 
trated any  crime  and  deemed  it  a  virtue,  if  the  Pretres 
had  commanded  me."   I  almost  involuntarily  exclaimr 

18,* 


fl:  >.. 


ir' 


\\ 


w 


^  J 


<. 


•^ 


/ 


154 

ed — "  Blessed  be  God,  who  redeemed  my  life  from  des- 
Iruction  for  my  marvellous  deliverance] — but  when 
you  uttered  this  irrational  distinction  in  your  estin>ate 
of  wickedness,  did  Marguerite  make  no  remark?'' 
Therese  continued — "  She  cast  upon  me  a  scrutiniz' 
ing  look,  doubtless  to  ascertain  whether  1  was  actually 
lost  to  all  sense  of  female  decorum,  and  reading  in  my 
features  that  some  remains  of  innocence  existed,  she 
begged  me  not  to  think  so  lightly  of  sin  before  God, 
as  to  suppose,  that  the  transgression  of  his  commands 
could  pass  unpunished.  1  observed  in  reply — 'the 
evil  is  done  away  by  our  own  penance,  the  Pope's  in- 
dulgences and  the  Priest's  pardon.'  She  next  demand- 
ed— 'but  what  are  the  sins  which  can  thus  be  re.iiit- 
ted  ?'  I  answered — '  O  !  1  know  not  particularly  ;  all 
that  matter  you  know,  the  Priest  explains  when  I 
goto  confession!'  •  Marguerite  then  said — *  Very  well; 
but  suppose  the  Pretre  should  tell  you  that  it  is  no  sin 
to  blaspheme  God,  to  utter  falsehoods,  or  to  live  un- 
chastely,  will  you  believe  him  V  I  replied — '  You 
know  that  if  the  Priest  orders  me  to  perform  any  action, 
then  it  loses  all  its  sinful  qualities.'  She  realized  in- 
stantly, that  I  was  well  fitted  for  their  most  unholy 
designs."  I  answered — "  After  all  that  I  have  myself 
felt  and  heard  upon  this  wretched  subject,  I  can 
scarcely  conceive,  Therese,  that  this  rule  of  action  is 
seriously  believed  by  any  persons  in  their  senses.  The 
inclination  to  vice  must  have  become  ungovernable, 
before  an  opinion  so  clearly  destructive  of  all  morality 
can  possibly  be  received  by  any  ratiotlal  beings  ;  and 
0en  it  must  be  avowed  solely  to  palliate  and  justify 


!  m 

Lie* 


m 


n  des- 

wheQ 
itin>ate 
lark  r 
•utiniz- 
ctually 

in  my 
led,  she 
re  God, 
nmands 
y — '  the 
ope's  in- 
lemand- 
)e  re.iiit- 
irly  ;  all 
when  I 
ery  well ; 
is  no  sin 
>  live  un- 
,d_'  You 
ay  action) 
ialized  in- 
3t  unholy 
ive  myself 
ict,  I  can 
f  action  is 
ises.    The 
;overnable, 
U  morality 
ings  ;  and 
and  justify 


155 


their  sinful  course."  Thereso  responded — "  Yet  you 
must  have  undoubtedly  been  taught  that  fundamental 
doctrine  of  their  Church ;  and  had  not  Marguerite 
pointed  out  its  gross  uffensiveness  by  the  personal  ap- 
phcation  to  yourself,  and  had  you  been  earlier  exposed 
to  all  the  contagion  of  seductive  examples  in  the  Con- 
vent, and  to  all  the  insnaring  blandishments  of  the 
Chaplain  and  other  Priests,  without  intermission,  res- 
traint, aiui  ciiuiiteraction  ;  do  you  thiuk,  Louise,  that 
you  would  hiive  defied  succepsfully  every  temptation 
and  vanquished  all  their  terrors?"  My  answer  was — 
"I  shudder  at  your  disgusting  picture,  Therese,  and 
adore  the  Sovereign  and  merciful  Disposer  of  events, 
that  I  escaped  the  horrible  abyss.  But  did  Marguerite's 
indirect  instructions  shed  no  light  upon  your  mind  /" 
My  trembling  and  weeping  associate  replied — "  No,  for 
I  urged  upon  her,  our  duty  to  believe  every  thing  the 
Priests  tell  us,  and  to  do  all  that  they  say  without  the 
least  hesitation.  This  I  contended  was  the  only  source 
of  our  peace  and  safety."  Here  I  interposed — "If 
Marguerite  at  tbat  period  believed  as  she  did  on  her 
dying  bed,  I  should  think  that  so  monstrous  a  princi- 
ple must  have  been  rejected  by  her." 

"  Listen,  Louise — she  added,  with  great  agitation — 
Marguerite  appeared  to  be  deeply  affected  by  my  folly, 
*  I  am  a  Christian  woman — she  remarked — and  have 
never  had  the  soundness  of  my  faith  disputed  ;  but  I 
cannot  believe  every  thing  I  have  been  told  When  a 
little  child,  did  you  not  read  the  Book  of  Fables  ?  But 
you  never  supposed,  that  the  Wolf  and  the  Lamb  ac* 


*;■ 


ihi 


■'■•  - 


if, 


i 


—  ■•••/ 


y 


166 


tually  argued  about  the  water  flowing  down  the  hill — 
she  glanced  at  me  with  her  well-remembered  expressive 
and  piercing  eye — although  I  have  often  seen  human 
wolves  in  sheep's  clothing  devour  the  innocent  lambs.' 
Ah  !  Louise  ;  now  1  biiterly  know  what  she  intended  ; 
and  often  since  have  1  been  harrowed  and  astonished 
that  1  did  not  comprehend  her  exactly  appropriate  allu- 
sion. DoulHiess  perceiving  that  in  this  covert  manner 
I  was  impenetrnble,  she  made  another  attempt  ;  and 
gradually  proceeded,  until  her  attacks  would  have  res- 
cued me,  had  I  not  been  so  irrecoverably  duped  and 
blindfolded.  "  If  a  Priest  should  state  to  you — she  in- 
quired— that  being  duly  commissioned  and  qualified  by 
the  Pope,  he  can  abro<j^ate  the  ten  r.ommandments,  will 
3'^ou  believe  him  T  To  this  startling  question  I  an- 
swered— 'I  shimld  suipose,  that  if  1  differ  from  him 
in  opinion,  my  sentiments  are  incorrect !'  She  instantly 
I'emarked — •  Then  you  would  admit  his  interpretation 
of  the  Divine  law  to  be  true ;  though  he  flatly  contra- 
dicted its  only  meaning  and  its  plain  express  words  I' 
This  exposition  rather  staggered  me.  so  that  with  some 
hesitation  I  replied — '  Undoubtedly,  Marguerite ;  be- 
cause you  know  it  is  not  for  us  to  set  up  our  judgment 
against  our  holy  mother  the  (Church,  of  which  the 
Pretres  are  the  ordained,  infallible  speaking  tribunal." 
Once  more  I  interrupted  Therese,and  said — "That  prin- 
ciple I  know  to  be  correct.  I  even  fully  assented  to  it  as 
a  general  theory,  after  I  had  discarded  it  in  \\a,  personal 
application  to  myself  This  fact,  therefore^  is  most  con- 
vincing proof,  not  only  of  the  great  fallacy  of  that 
wicked  claim,  but  also  that  the  most  obligatory  rules  of 


).; 


r 


157 


moral  rectitude  are  effaced  by  the  Jesuit  Priests.  Oiu 
Lord  Jesus  gave  us  for  his  golden  rule,  'all  things 
whatsoever  ye  would  that  men  should  do  unto  you,  do 
ye  even  so  unto  them' :  but  i  could  permit  the  wolves 
to  continue  in  their  merciless  ruin  of  the  lambs,  pro* 
vided  they  Hid  not  rend  me  ;  and  hud  not  the  revoking 
picture  which  Marguerite  drew  aid  d  the  undying  im- 
pression, while  I  should  have  condemned  the  crime  if 
pepetraled  asfsiinst  myself,  in  reftjreufc  to  aliers,  I 
should  have  justified  the  criminal."  My  -mpani^  i 
added — ^>  Mad  I  then  possessed  the  smallest,  particle  <  f 
becoming  tVuninine  sensibihty  or  of  sound  rationiil  in- 
tellect,  1  must  have  glimpsed  enough  m  oiy  own 
foolishness,  at  least,  to  have  guarded  me  against  the 
direct  ushhuUs  of  unveiled  iniquity ;  hut  I  was  so  chained 
in  their  Jesuitirul  trammels,  that  nothing  ar<>Ui^eH  me, 
until  1  was  inmmred  in  seclusion  and  racke<l  with  paui  \ 
Of  this  truth  you  will  he  fully  convinced,  Luiii(-e,  when 
I  have  connnunicated  to  you  the  remainder  of  Mar- 
guerite's circuitous  instructions."  &he  paused,  and  I 
further  remarked — "These  opinions  were  not  all  ad- 
dressed to  you  upon  one  occasion,  Therese,  1  think  you 
said:  how  then  was  it  possiM'  ''or  you  to  evade  the 
influence  of  her  counsel,  when  Marguerite's  advice  and 
cautions  were  presented  to  you  at  different  tunes,  and 
at  distant  intervals'/"  Th'5!re8e  answered — "  Well  may 
you  ask  that  question; — but  indeed  I  scarcely  ever 
thought  of  Marguerite  or  of  our  conversations,  except 
when  I  was  present  with  her.  I  was  too  frivolous  and 
gay ;  and  was  always  impressed  with  the  conviction, 
for  so  the  Jesuits  taught  us,  that  all  appearances  of 


\'.l 


]>  1 


i)i 


"^ 


».*<f  ■  ♦ — 1. . 


,^.,M«  «,  ^,*-»Mr, ..%,... ,, 


:  '"y\ 


Jiw 


158 

greater  gravity  and  less  attachment  fur  self-indulgence 
and  youthful  pleasures  in  the  elder  Nune,  were  not  the 
result  of  disincUnation,  but  of  satiety,  or  hypocrisy, 
or  of  incapacity  from  feebleness  or  age  to  enjoy  their 
former  habitual  dissipation."  To  this  acknowledgment 
I  subjoined — "  ("ela  est  vrai,  that  is  true.  I  was  often 
obliged  to  listen  to  that  eoul-destroying  tale,  until  all 
that  I  knew  of  the  world  appeared  as  one  vast  mass  of 
thoughtlessness  and  vanity.  In  the  circle  where  the 
Pretres  move,  I  believe,  shocking  as  is  the  fact,  that 
your  statement  is  lamentably  verified." 


'    i 


Vr 


"Let  me  proceed,  Louise — desired  my  companion — 
during  one  interview,  and  when  probably  from  what 
she  either  saw  or  heard.  Marguerite  ssuspected,  that  I 
was  on  the  verge  of  being  sacrificed,  she  agiiin  intro- 
duced that  importnni  subject.  Apparently  as  a  matter 
only  of  curiosity,  she  inquired — 'are  you  of  your  former 
opinion  respecting  the  believing  and  doing  of  every 
thing  exactly  as  the  Priests  desire  or  command  V  I 
promptly  said — '  Yes  !'  The  old  wom  in  retorted — 'Eh 
bien,  well ;  suppose  a  heretic  should  declare  to  you  that 
the  Church  is  a  theatre,  and  the  Priest  and  his  assist- 
ants are  only  actors,  and  that  every  Sunday  you  and 
all  the  people  go  there  to  see  a  farce  performed,  will 
you  believe  him  ?'  I  rejoined — 'Marguerite,  how  can 
you  ask  such  a  silly  question?  do  you  thinks  that  1 
could  be  imposed  upon  by  so  stupid  and  contradictory 
an  assertion  V  she  immediately  answered—'  Pont  du 
tout,  not  at  all  ;  but  su|)pose  the  Pretre  should  tell  you, 
lliat  the  Church  is  a  chestnut,  and  that  all  the  people 


H 


^'      \ 


^    ^f't.^  f«t«^">.. 


^ 


.>,<». ».•^,^.,^^>•»-' 


ulgence 
I  not  the 
pocrisy^ 
oy  theic 
sdgment 
as  often 
until  all 
L  mass  of 
here  the 
id,  that 


tan  ion — 
m   what 
id,  that  I 
tin  intro- 
a  matter 
111'  former 
of  every 
ind  V    I 
ed— 'Eh 
you  that 
tis  assist- 
you  and 
ned,  will 
low  can 
that  1 
radictory 
Pont  du 
tell  you, 
e  people 


159 

who  go  into  it  are  the  kernel ;  and  that  one  hundred 
millions  of  people  had  cracked  the  same  nut  and  eaten 
the  same  kernel,  many  times  annually  during  eighteen 
hundred  years  past ;  that  he  who  built  the  church 
was  eaten  up  in  the  nut  before  he  laid  the  foundation 
stone ;  and  that  although,  according  to  the  Prctre's  ac- 
count, the  kernel  of  the  nut,  that  is,  the  church,  the  build- 
er and  the  people  have  been  eaten  up  eigliteen  hundred 
thousand  millions  of  times,  yet  the  architect,  the  church, 
.and  the  people  remain  the  Hame,  and  that  every  Roman 
Priest  has  the  power  to  cliange  the  church  and   people 
of  his  parish  into  a  nut  and  eat  them,  and  yet  multiply 
them  every  day,   so  that  all  the  people  can  swallow 
themselves  and  their  neighbors  at  any  time  in  every 
parish   throughout  the  world,  wlienever   any   Priest 
pleases ;  and  thus  that  every  single  man  or  woman,  or 
boy  or  girl  who  can  crack  the  nut,  can  not  only  devour 
himself,  but  also  all  the  Churches  and   congregations 
upon  the  earth,  at  the  same  time,  and  as  often  as  the 
person  chooses  to  pay  the  Prelre  for  producing  this 
wonderful  change,  and  making  such  a  nut,  will  you 
believe  him,  Therese  V  inquired  the  arch  Marguerite. 
As  I  had  not  the  smallest  idea  in  what  way  the  parable 
could  be  applied,  my  answer  was  very  brief — 'No  Prelre 
will  affirm  such  nonsense."     Little  did  J  then  imagine 
that  the  corner  stone  of  their  priestcraft  is  unspeakably 
more  false  and  incredible.     However,  I  am  now  con- 
vinced of  the  truth  of  Marguerite's  deduction,  that  if 
we  are  bouiid   to  believe  a   Jesuit  implicitly  in  one 
thing,  merely  on  account  of  his  priestly  office,  then  vve 
are  obliged  to  submit  and  to  trust  to  him  in  all.    Thus 


)0 


\  >) 


111 

'1? 


)i 


k 


I 


^.'»-^^.r■*^f?,r- 


•*?■ 


*      ■ 


.•^•■ 


J        % 


;\ 


\. 


160 

it  is  of  no  consequence,  whether  we  bow  down  to  the 
moral  obliquities  which  he  teaches  and  enforces,  or  to 
the  fraud  of  purgatory,  the  blasphemy  of  transubstantia- 
tion,  and  the  idolatry  of  the  Mass.  In  answer  to  my 
■hort  sentence,  Marguerite  said — '  but  if  you  must  be- 
lieve and  perform  all  the  Prie  jt's  words,  where  will  you 
ftop  ?  if  his  control  over  your  faith,  and  practice,  and 
conscience  be  unbounded,  how  can  you  justly  dispute 
his  infallible  authority,  whether  he  teaches  truth  or  er- 
ror, sense  or  nonsense,  virtue  or  vice, piety  or  ir religion?'" 

"  One  might  suppose — I  remarked — that  no  person 
of  common  rationality  would  subscribe  to  these  insult- 
ing opinions,  did  not  our  own  observation,  and  alas ! 
our  own  experience  testify,  that  under  the  influence  of 
vicious  propensities,  the  heart  and  mind  of  man  may  be 
induced  to  receive  any  doctrine,  however  base  and  pre- 
posterous, if  itsanctions  the  desired  indulgence  of  the  in- 
ordinate passions."     Therese  added — "  I  am  convinced 
that  this  is  the  only  true  solution  of  the  difficulty.   Igno- 
rance of  all  sublime  truth  naturally  engenders  the  predo- 
minanceof  the  most  grovelling  errors,  which  become  pal- 
atable by  their  congeniality  with  the  objects  of  sense;  and 
when  aided  by  the  endless  variety  of  stratagems,  with 
which,  as  you  were  reading  lo  me  the  other  day  from 
Christ's  words,  a  Jesuit,  if  it  were  possible,  would  de- 
ceive the  very  elect ;  these  sensual  inclinations  dispose 
the  mind  to  remove  all  the  grand  moral  distinctions, 
and  especially  when  gilded  over  by  the   plausible  dis- 
tinction, which  exists,  as  the  Roman  Priests  pretend, 
between  mortal  and  venial  sins.    Thus  it  was  with 


...  I 


i. 


!^) 


n  to  the 
:e8,  or  to 
bgtantia- 

irto  my 
nust  be- 
will  you 
;iice,  and 
yr  dispute 
uth  or  er- 
leligionl'" 

tto  person 
ese  insult- 
and  alas! 
ifluence  of 
an  may  be 
je  and  pre- 
3  of  the  in- 
convinced 
Ity.   Igno- 
the  predo- 
jecome  pal- 
sense;  and 
gems,  with 
!V  day  from 
!,  would  de- 
ions  dispose 
iistinctions, 
ausible  dis- 
sts  pretend, 
it  was  with 


161 

me.    Margfuerite  perceived  that  I  was  dumb,  when  she 
asked  me — 'how  can  you  dispute  the  Priest's  infalKble 
authority  ?'  She  thus  proposed  to  awaken  my  seared 
conscience  by  that  exciting  question.     Instead  of  which 
eifect,  it  operated  upon  me  as  an  opiate ;  for  as  I  could 
not  instantly  say,  in  what  points  I  would  venture  to 
resist  the  claims  of  the  Jesuit  Priests,  I  concluded 
that  uo  exception  could  justly  be  made.     Marguerite 
observed  my   unwary  mental  acquiescence  with   the 
principle  which  she  opposed,  and  resolved  to  impel  the 
arrow  of  conviction  as  far  as  she  dared  without  risking 
her  own  safety.     'Will  you  break  any  one  of  the  com* 
mandments  in  the  decalogue — she  again  inquired— 
because  a  Priest  tells  you  that  your  disobedience  is  a' 
venial  sin  ?  or  will  you  bear  false  witness,  steal  other 
people's  property,  or  commit  murder,  if  you  can  do  it, 
secretly,  because  your  Pretre  entices  you  to   do  it' 
and  promises  you   his  absolution  V  Proposed  in  this 
forni,  the  opinion  which  I  had  avowed  did  not  appear 
defensible  ;  and  yet  I  perceived  no  alternative,  mortal^ 
sin  must  be  committed,  or  the  Priest  must  be  confided' 
in  and  obeyed.     However  1  answered  her — 'obedience 
to  our  confessor  is^the  first  law  of  the  Church  ;  and  if 
I  err  by  obeying  the  Priest,   he  will  have  to  bear  the 
punishment !'  Marguerite  replied — 'Ah !  ma  chere,  my' 
dear ;  if  one  child  at  school  induces  another  to  act 
wrong,  the  teacher  corrects  both  ;  and  although  the 
tempter  is  generally  more  corrupt  and  criminal  than' 
the  tempted,  yet  the  latter  is  amenable  for  hfs  owQ" 
transgression,  and  bears  his  own  stripes.'     This  doc* 
trine  was  too  evidently  true  to  be  evaded  by  any  aoi 
phistrv.    I  could  therefore  only  repel  its  force  by  aEf^eit- 

14 


M 


IS. 


/ 


a^w^'itu-A  ■  )fl^|i^pf 


y 


1 1 


'■ 


1 

fU 

1 

i    r 

I 

1  « 

t 

t,  ■ 

h 

1  ■ 

}\ 

L  -1 

\ 

(        » 

I 

i 

16^ 

ing — HToar  principle  does  no^  apply ;  for  it  cannot  be 
supposed  that  the  holy  priests  will  be  permitted  either 
themselves  to  fall  into  error,  or  to  teach  it  to  others.' 
The  melancholy  view  which  Marguerite  took  of  my 
approaching  degradation  emboldened  her  finally  to  ask- 
me — *  should  a  Priest  be  inclined  to  violate  his  vows 
and  solicit  you  to  indulge  him,  by  persuading  you 
that  the  trangression  of  the  two  commandments  re- 
specting chastity  is  a  venial  sin,  which  he  can  pardon  ; 
vhat  will  you  do,  Therese :  will  you  consent  to  his 
ivicked  lawless  desires?'  I  felt  embarrassed ;  but  was 
not  convinced  and  remained  silent.  'Do  you  not  know 
added  Marguerite—  that  these  things  are  continually 
done  V — I  answered  her  not  a  word.  From  your  state- 
ment she  accurately  divined  the  cause  of  my  silence ; 
fer  although  not  then  actually  a  guilty  participant  of 
their  criminal  intercourse ;  yet  I  was  completely  entan- 
gled and  bewitched  with  their  licentious  revelry.  My 
principles  and  feelings  were  thoroughly  )x>isoned  ;  and 
Irom  all  that  I  had  seen  or  heard  or  been  taught,  it  ap* 
peared  undeniable,  that  the  natural  consequence  of  a 
girl's  possessing  any  alluring  qualities,  and  of  attaining 
a  certain  age,  was  that  she  must  submit  to  the  Priest's 
wanton  caresses,  and  become  the  solace  of  his  unna- 
tural and  ruinous  celibacy."  f*i 


,'1! 


iD'i^ 


. ..  *'  I  have  additional  reasons  to  adore  the  Divine  ma- 
jesty— I  remarked — for  his  abundant  goodness  in  pre- 
serving me  from  the  pit  in  which  so  many  others  have 
been  intrapped."  Therese  rejoined — "  It  was  always 
a  mystery  inexplicable  to  us,  by  what  means  you  bad 


'W'.^-¥^ 


inot  be 
d  either 
others.* 
c  of  my 
ly  to  ask 
lis  vows 
ing  you 
lents  re- 
pardon  ; 
It  to  his 
but  was 
not  know 
ntinually 
our  state- 
^  silence ; 
icipant  of 
jly  entan- 
slry.    My 
led  ;   and 
ght,  it  ap- 
ence  of  a 
attaining 
he  Prieit's 
his  uuna- 


'.?  r 


T? 


•<■.'■• 


divine  ma- 
ess  in  pre- 
rthers  have 
vas  always 

US  you  bad 


163 

become  so  thoroughly  armed  against  the  Pretre's  wiles ; 
for  one  of  the  most  pernicious  evils  connected  with 
monastic  life  is  this — that  those  who  already  have  been 
insnared,  are  made  the  shameless  tools  to  grapple  fresh 
victims.  The  immediate  separation  of  the  mother 
from  her  infant,  except  in  very  peculiar  cases,  destroys 
all  tender  sensibilities,  and  the  callous  effrontery  of 
the  Nuns,  as  you  have  awfully  witnessed — here  she 
beat  her  bosom  and  wrung  her  hands,  as  if  in  a  mo- 
mentary frenzy — render  xthem  peculiarly  qualified  in- 
struments to  carry  on  the  crafty  designs  of  the  l^riests, 
in  the  dreadful  work  of  female  seduction  and  ruin." 

"  These  conversations  directed  me  in  my  efforts  to 
enlighten  and  impress  my  companion's  cons^cience.  I 
clearly  perceived  that  she  was  still  very  defective  in  re- 
ference to  the  spirituality  of  God's  law  and  the  malig*' 
nity  of  sin.  These  I  determined  therefore  should  con> 
stitute  my  primary  points.  But  Therese,  although  a  * 
dull,  was  not  an  unwilling  pupil.  All  her  moral  ap- 
prehensions had  so  long  been  confounded  and  stupifie^ 
that  it  was  difficult  to  engage  her  mind  to  receive  any*'* 
thing  unless  t  hrough  the  medium  of  sense.  From  her 
I  imbibed  a  practical  knowledge  of  the  vast  labor  which 
is  requisite  to  turn  an  old  sinner  from  the  error  of  her 
ways.  She  was  not  an  example  of  profound  iernorance: 
but  her  mind  had  always  been  habituated  to  erroneous 
conceptions  of  every  thing  connected  with  the  human 
character  in  our  relation  with  God.  Her  whole  life  t 
from  premature  womanhood  had  been  a  ceaseless  rou- 
tine of  a  loathed,  because  tiresome  and  unmeaning 


t 


1-. 


i 


\    \ 


1 


^' 


tm^^mffrf-x'* ' 


'm^^m' 


/  ■; 


164 


( '  ^ 


\    I 


oeremonial  of  pretended  worship;  flagrant  violations  of 
tfie  divine  law,  and  the  use  of  the  most  pernicious 
jknethods  to  harden  conscience  and  deaden  all  moral  sen* 
sibiiity.  My  own  experience,  although  not  impregnated 
with  so  many  morbid  mixtures,  led  me  to  introduce  to 
her  attention  tHose  parts  of  the  Scriptures,  which  avowed 
the  authority  and  sanctity  of  the  divine  government, 
and  especially  those  passages  which  unfolded  in  the  most 
pointed  and  impressive  manner,  the  omniscience  and 
omniprescence  of  God.  I  had  found  the  truth  of  the 
adage,  "  the  fear  of  the  Lord  is  the  beginning  of  wis- 
dom  ;"  and  1  had  also  experienced  that  the  quickeninge 
of  that  fear  are  peculiarly  vivified  by  the  remembrance 
of  him  to  whom  ''all  things  are  naked  and  open."  To 
these  spiritual  subjects,  Therese  was  lamentably  insen- 
sible.  She  had  never  known  any  object  of  worship, 
except  through  the  carnal  visible  unages  and  idols  of 
her  mummery  ;  and  although  from  having  long  de* 
rived  no  satisfaction  by  worshipping  them  ;  and  from 
the  Holy  Spirit  operating  to  unfold  to  her  the  folly  of 
trusting  in  nothings,  which  can  neither  see,  hear,  feel 
nor  assist,  she  had  discarded  the  external  objects  of  her 
superstitious  rites ;  yet  her  mind  had  not  found  the 
Great  Supreme,  as  the  sole  basis  of  confidence ; — as  the 
Apostle  Paul  expressed  her  state,  "  she  had  turned  from 
her  idols,  but  not  to  serve  the  true  and  living  God." 


While  residing  with  you,  my  brother,  I  ascertained, 
that  the  only  effectual  method  to  dissipate  the  mists  of 
error  in  which  I  had  been  educated,  was  the  endeavor 
to  obtain  the  raya  of  the  sun  of  righteousness,  by  «. 


\c: 


<:mf¥% 


y    ■' 


',??/••• 


,*■", 


itionsof 
rnicious 

)ral  sen* 
egnated 
jduce  to 
avowed 
srnment, 
the  most 
nee  and 
th  of  the 

r  of  Wis- 

ckeninge 
imbrance 
)eu."  To 
►ly  insen- 
worship) 
d  idols  of 
long  de* 
and  from 
le  folly  of 
hear,  feel- 
BCts  of  her 
found  the 
; — as  the 
irned  from 
:  God." 

certained, 
le  mists  of 
\  endeavor 
less,  by  -a 


165 

bedfast  perusal  of  the  sacred  volume.     So  sudden 
and  bright  was  the  refulgence  of  the  gospel,  I  could 
scarcely  believe  that  the. book  which  I  had  procured 
was  genuine.   I  had  to  undergo  a  similar  but  more  te- 
dious penod  of  partially  doubting  amazement  with  yout 
mother.     Therese  could  not  conceive,  if  the  Bible  is 
hue,  how  the  Priests  dared  to  restrain  the  common 
people  from  perusiiig  its  holy  instructions.    This  scruple 
I  vanquished  by  proving  to  her,  that  there  is  not  one 
doctrine  peculiar  to  Popery  which  can  be  found,  or 
which  is  not  directly  prohibited  in  the  scriptures ;  and 
that  it  is  evident,  therefore,  the  Priests  forbid  the  study 
of  the  Old  and  New  Testament,  lest  their  idolatrous  and 
cormpt   practices  should  be  exposed,  and  themselves, 
with  their  priestcraft,  be  rejected.    It  was  more  difficult 
to  convince  her,  that  the  Pretres  wilfully  distorted  the 
sacred  oracles,  thereby  to  enforce  their  treacherous  im- 
positions upon  the  souls  of  men.     She  detested  the 
Jesuits  whom  she  had  known  ;  but  it  was  not  so  mudi 
for  their  dreadful  frauds  and  unholiness,  as  on  account 
of  the  personal  miseries  which  she  endured,  either  from 
her  past  connection  with  them  or  through  their  direct 
instrumentality.     In  respect  also  to  her  own  individual 
sins,  she  seemed  more  disposed  to  impute  them  to  the 
instigations  of  the  Roman  Priests,  than  to  her  own 
choice,  and  willing  participation.     Thus  her  mind  was 
Hhielded  in  a  double  delusion  almost  impenetrable ;  and 
she  realized  not  the  feeling  implied  by  the  Psalmist — 
"I  acknowledge  my  transgression,  and  my  sin  is  ever 
before  me.    Against  thee  only  have  I  sinned,  and  dcn» 
♦lllis  evH  in  thy  sight,"  — 

14* 


*.^ 


hi 

I'.    , 
I       /  ' 

;    i  I 


H 

5? 
It 

! ; : 


i 


■  i 


I 


H,.( f-TM"**"'         * 


si^J'i^^^fSSP^*^ 


;66 


%.. 


.  Soii^etimes  I  became  almost  impatient,  when  I  dii* 
99raed  how  elowly  her  mind  received  the  plainest  dic-^ 
tates  of  revealed  truth.  Her  objections,. however,  gradu- 
ally became  weaker.     I  found  the  words  of  Christ 
f eiy  beneficial  for.  my  assistance,  ^'search  the  Scrip- 
tures ;"  and  I  argued,  that  the  Savior's  authority  was 
[paramount  to  that  of  all  inferior  teachers ;  and  that 
although  I  bad  encountered  great  obstacles  to  under- 
stand them,  yet  by  patient  assiduity  and  humble  sin- 
cere prayer,  I  had  found,  that  "  whatever  things  were 
written  aforetime  were  written  for  our  learning,  that 
through  comfort  of  the  Scriptures  we  might  have  hope." 
Often  did  I  read  to  her  the  penitential  Psalms,  and  the 
chapters  of  ancient  history  which  record  the  lamenting 
confessions  of  Patriarchs  and  Prophets;  especially  those 
which  directed  our  meditations  to  the  degeneracy  of 
human  nature,  the  lost  and  ruined  condition  of  man 
by  sin,  and  the  corruption  of  our  own  hearts  whence 
all  sin  flows.    On  these  occasions,  she  would  sometimes 
stop  me,  and  think.    Although  little  conversation  then 
occurred    between   us;    yet  I  frequently   reminded 
Therese,  that  the  word  of  God  to  be  beneficial  must 
be  personally  applied ;  and  if  its  doctrines  and  examples 
and  commandments  are  not  thus  enforced  directly  upon 
our  own  consciences,  all  its  important  instructions  will 
be  of  no  permanent  advantage.      ?;    -.j^f  ■    . 

There  was  also  a  wandering  inattention  in  Therese 
tirhich  often  disconcerted  me ;  but  I  had  counted  the 
cost  of  my  services  and  patience.  1  beheld  a  woman 
emaciated,  enfeebled  by  a  lingering  malady,  wretched, 


^:S'' 


(ft-f-W  '■»  ■■«»■•;,■■ 


-•aMUtaMM^'  - 


■'«tr— 't'l 


S  '»'■ 


nl  dif* 
lest  dic-- 
,  gradu" 
'  Christ 
e  Scrip- 
rity  was 
md  that 
}  uader- 
nble  ein- 
igs  were 
lag,  that 
ve  hope." 
,  and  the 
EimeiitiQg 
ally  those 
aeracy  of 
Q  of  man 
s  whence 
lometimee 
ation  then 
reminded 
icial  must 
examples 
ectly  upon 
ctioDs  will 


a  Theresc 

ounted  the 

a  woman 

,  wretched, 


I6r 

agonized  with  most  tormenting  fear,  enshrouded  in  the 
deepest  menial  gloom,  and  agitated  by  a  tempest  ol 
conflicting  paasioos.  Although  1  had  received  from  hsr 
many,  and  the  utmost  injuries  which  she  possibly  could 
inflict ;  and  although  she  had  dishonored  every  femi* 
nine  characteristic,  and  severed  all  the  endearing  bonds 
of  common  humanity;  yet  she  was  forlorn,  despised  by 
the  instigators  of  her  crimes,  and  claimed  my  compas- 
sion.     She  possessed  an  immortal  soul,  and  it  was  my 
duty  to  use  all  appointed  means,  under  the  Divine 
blessing,  for  her  salvation  :  and  she  was  my  mother  f 
and  she  was  your  mother,  my  dear  Diganu ;  and  her 
wicked  ways  had  not  exonerated  me  from  my  duty  us 
her  daughter,  much  less  as  a  Christian.     These  consi- 
derations animated  me  to  persevere.     I  could  not  forget 
my  own  past  ignorance,  my  former  danger,  my  mar- 
vellous rescue,  and  my  present  privileges  and  consola- 
tions.    Therefore  I  constantly  supplicated  for  wisdom 
to  act  aright,  and  for  full  success  to  my  feeble  exertions. 
Knowing  tlie  danger  of  bewildering  her  mind,  and 
aware  that  until  Therese  correctly  apprehended  some- 
thing of  the  Divine  character  and  attributes,  and  until 
she  also  felt  that  his  "  law  is  holy,  and  his  command- 
ments holy,  just,  and  good,"  I  should  be  only  "  as  one 
who  beateth  the  air  ;"as  much  as  possible  I  restricted 
myself  to  these  two  subjects.    Occasionally  I  adverted 
to  Marguerite's  evangelical  understanding  of  the  genu- 
ine effects  of  saving  knowledge  upon  the  souL    I  se- 
lected some  examples  from  the  sacred  word,  and  also 
different  corroborating  testimonies  from  the  volumes 
which  I  pofsaessed  to  the  same  effect ;  and  at  IcDgth,  to 


f 

i 


li 


^ 


i 


I 


16S 


my  great  delight,   I  discovered  that  her  conscience 
began  to  yield  to  the  light  and  the  truth.    Sometimes 
Tberese  would  inquire — "how  is  it  powible  that  such 
great  coincidences  in  experience  and  language  can  exist 
among  persons  of  different  ages  and  countries  1"  This 
tact  naturally  led  me  to  urge  the  univ^sal  suitability 
of  the  Bible  to  the  wants  of  all  mankind ;  and  to  argue 
thai  the  identical  effect  of  pure  Christianity  in'  all  per- 
sons, however  otherwise  unknown,  was  an  undeniable 
proof  of  its  divjne  origin  and  bestowment.     ;I  also  per- 
ceived .  that  she  was  often  affected  with  devotional 
expressions,  particularly  if  they  implied  intense  feeling, 
and  aversion  to  mental  disquietude ;  and  she  w^ould 
frequently  use  David's  figure,  that  "the  bones  which 
thou  hast  broken  may  rejoice."    Yet  I  could  discover 
nothing  of  a  direct  tendency  to  that  avowal  of  contri- 
tion ac-companied  by  the  exercise  of  faith  and  earnest 
ness  of  prayer,  which  I  so  anxiously  longed  to  witness. 
When  persons  have  wandered  so  far,  not  only  from 
the  pathway  of  righteousness,  but  also  from  all  natural 
decorum,  and  have  violated  every  powerful  and  salutary 
restraint  of  conscience  which  the  Judge  of  the  quick 
and  the  dead  has  appointed  for  the  order  and  comfoit 
of  man ;  if  in  mercy  they  are  awakened  on  the  verge 
(rf  the  precipice,  whence  they  mi^t  plunge  into  the 
ubyss  of  eternal  wo,  it  seems  to  be  the  appointment  of 
infinite  wisdom  and  love,  that  they  shaU  usually  feel 
their  steps  with  caution,  as  they  retrace  their  course  to 
'^'the  strong  hold."  One  hope  often  composed  my  mind. 
Without  any  hesitation,  Therese  would  feelingly  con- 
Ass  that  she  was  Among  the  chief «f  ^in^ers.  I  oiso 


/ 


169 

knew  that  much  of  her  criminality  had  flowed  from 
ignorance  and  unbelief ;  and  although  lest  vhe  might 
bo  tempted  to  deceive  herself  with  u  fallacious  hope,  I 
never  adverted  to  this  special  point,  in  the  Apostle  Paul's 
confession,  yet  from  it  I  was  ei.>x)uraged  to  proy,  that 
the  faithful  saying  might  be  fulfilled  in  her  believing 
and  app9opriatiugjy;c^ptation. 


-.^.. 


i 
ft 


During  many  weeks  it  would  be  easier  to  describe 
her  state  by  negatives,  rather  than  by  affirmatives. 
She  had  not»  as  I  conceived,  evangelically  repented  j 
but  her  conscience  was  entendered.  She  did  not  be- 
lieve in  the  Lord  Jesun  Christ ;  but  she  totally  rejected 
all  other  dependence  for  salvation.  She  was  not  a 
fruitful  servant  of  the  Redeemer  ;  but  she  no  longer 
trampled  up«n  his  rightful  authority.  She  could  not 
forget  the  unsatisfying  pleasures  which  she  had  so 
long  and  ardently  pursued  ;  but  she  had  imbibed  an 
utter  repugnance  to  all  her  iniquitous  practices.  She 
had  not  received  the  pure  gospel,  partly  from  the  uneasi* 
nesa  which  she  felt  in  submitting  to  its  yoke ;  but 
she  utterly  disowned  (he  merciless  tyranny  of  the  Jesuit 
Priests.  She  was  exactly  like  a  traveller  without  a  guide 
in  a  desert;  where  to  stand  still  is  impossible,  but  to  move 
is  to  storm  every  conceivable  danger.  Gradually  how- 
ever, her  peevishness  was  less  distressing.  Her  temper 
was  airended,  and  her  remarks  upon  religious  topics 
became  more  frequent  and  more  scriptural.  Whether 
this  was  the  result  of  our  seclusion  from  the  world,  or 
our  attention  to  the  books  which  I  read  to  her,  or  to  any 


;- 


■f>4 


mmf^-^?rwpmmi'' 


'•''"T^mm*'' ■ 


>  rv 


■-.•* 


V, 


(^ 


17D 

eiTectual  application  of  divine  truth  to  her  own  pecu^ 
liar  state,  I  could  not  decide.  I  hoped  the  latter  ;  but 
I  rejoiced  with  trembling.  One  thing,  however,  rather 
astonished  me.  She  appeared  to  manifest  less  anxiety 
to  know  my  own  pergonal  history  ;  and  the  subject 
was  scarcely  ever  adverted  to,  except  to  ascertain  liow 
I  felt  at  the  diflferent  periods  when^was  prtpmt  with 
me  ;  thereby  to  explore  another  trait  in  our  varied  vc- 
coUectionsjthat  she  mig^ht  comprehend  all  the  operations 
of  Divine  truth  upon  our  minds.  These  cursory  inves- 
ligations  being  spontaneous  gratified  me,  because  they 
indicated  an  inquiring  mind  ;  and  certified,  that  the 
hours  of  silence  and  of  our  separation  were  not  totally 
unprofitable.  .,.      ,>  r  v 

jj't:  ■  ■     '  '-,.■.;.      "-    • 

.  On  the  las^t  day  of  December,  after  I  had  read  aloud 
some  of  the  PHalrni^l,  and  a  pat?sage  from  one  of  my 
authors  adapted  to  the  end  (^  the  year,  Therese  ad< 
dressed  me — "  I  know  not,  Louise,  how  exactly  to  ac- 
count for  the  fact,  but  I  have  never  known  so  agreea- 
ble a  time  in  my  hfe,  as  the  weeks  which  have  elapsed 
since  you  came  to  Three  Rivers."  My  reply  was — "  I 
i=ejoice  if  1  have  been  able  beneficially  to  serve  you, 
and  to  show  you  what.  I  might  have  been,  if  other  cir- 
cumstances had  controlled  our  mutual  destinies." 
Therese  answered — "  That  subject  may  be  discussed 
upon  some  other  occasion  ;  my  object  now  is  to  remind 
you,  that  ta  morrow  we  may  expect  to  see  Roboirsic, 
and  I  shall  be  pleased  to  tell  him  of  your  great  kind- 
ness to  jne."  I  again  remarked — "  I  have  not  forgot- 
ten, Therese,  that  he  has  never  yet  disappomted  me  : 


/    .     ' 


WT- 


^    1 


pccu- 
r;  but 
rather 
mxietjr 
subject 
in  how 
nt  with 
ried  rC' 
irations 
f  inves- 
ise  they 
hat  (he 

totally 


,d  aloud 

B  of  my 

•ese  ad- 

j  to  ac- 

agreea- 


^as— "  I 
VQ  you, 
her  cir- 
stinies." 
iscussed 
remind 
ohoirsic, 
at  kind- 
»t  forgot- 
,ed  me : 


iod  he  knowfl,  that  no  day  in  the  year  has  been  so* 
BDxiously  desired  oa  the  first.  It  has  been  atways, 
since  my  separation  from  Diganu,  aday  of  comfort  in 
my  own  mind,  and  of  gratitude  to  God  ;  and  although 
my  friend  did  not  abbolutely  engage  to  see  me  on  any 
particular  day,  but  during  the  holidays,  yet  1  hope 
Hiat  the  morrow  in  a  peculiar  degree  will  be  a  day  of 
peace."  Therese  rejoined — "Vous  avez  raison,  you  arc 
right,  I  do  not,  I  cannot  expect,  indeed  1  have  no  right 
to  look  for  a  day  of  comfort,  or  to  be  at  peace ;  but 
I  feel  sincerely  thankful  to  God,  i  trust,  for  sending 
you  to  me ;  and  if  I  am  not  stronger  in  health,  that  1 
am  improved  in  knowledge,  and  clearer  rn  principles, 
than  at  the  end  of  the  Inst  year.  My  expectations, 
Louise,  are  very  contracted.  I  cannot  even  lift  up  my 
eyes  unto  heaven.  I  can  only  cry — *God  be  merciful 
to  me  a  sinner' ;  and  yet  twelve  months  ago,  I  had  no 
knowledge  of  myself,  nor  can  I  truly  say  that  I  even 
desired  thus  to  be  made  rightly  sensible  of  my  guilt 
and  danger,  and  to  obtain  delivering  grace.  ' 

I  know  not  exactly  how  I  felt  at  these  hopeful  avow- 
als. 1  could  only  silently  pray  that  the  1  .ord  wouU) 
be  in  the  good  work,  if  it  was  not  savingly  commenced ; 
and  if  the  incorruptible  seed  by  the  word  of  God  had 
been  implanted,  that  he  would  carry  it  on  until  the  day  of 
Jesus  Christ.  Therese  was  watching  me.  Whether 
my  lips  moved,  I  know  not ;  but  she  saw  my  repress- 
ed emotions  of  satisfaction  and  interest  in  her  humble 
and  artless  acknowledgments.  "  Louise — she  said, 
with  gjreat  pathos — I  am  not  acquamted  with  thego* 


i'i"-rus\t>*I  ■*>■'' ij 


.?r'.:Kt 


I. 


■■•^ 


-*^'d^.^v 


,.  mi*'??  >M.'!-  !*ggjg|iitl^Vii''*'^  ■ 


fmmmmmm 


>> 

t^^ 


^■^ 


f:,'*- 


172 


I  <  I 


very  important  concerns — yow  are.  Pray  for  me,  as 
you  do  alone  for  yourself ;  and  give  thanks  to  God, 
that  we  may  end  this  year,  seeking  his  mercy,  and 
imploring  an  increase  of  good  for  the  New  Year." 
She  had  never  before  requested  me  to  pray,  nor  did  I 
feel  qualified  to  be  a  devotional  leader  for  another  ;  but 
who  could  resist  such  an  appeal,  at  that  season,  and 
i^om  our  humbled,  contrite  mother "?  From  that  period, 
your  Louise  cea3ed  not  to  offer  her  da^ly  prayers  and 
supplications,  making  our  joint  requests  with  thanks- 
giving known  unto  God. 

True  to  his  hour,  on  the  morning  of  the  New  Year, 
Rohoirsic  entered,  and  congratualated  us  on  our  ap- 
parent comfort  with  each  other.  Having  pleased 
Therese  and  dehghted  me  by  assuring  us  of  your  pros- 
perity, he  departed,  accompanied  with  our  blessing 
and  regard,  while  we  mutually  rejoiced,  that  his  inter- 
vention to  settle  us  in  the  same  habitation  had  been 
attended  with  such  propitious  effects.  One  of  the 
consequences  of  the  counsellor's  visit  was  unexpected. 
Speedily  after,  Therese  requested  me  to  recount  the 
jdanner  of  my  escape  from  the  Pretre's  residence  ;  and 
I  think,  during  our  whole  intercourse,  that  nothing 
seemed  to  gratify  her  so  much  respecting  our  temporal 
concerns  as  my  narrative.  "It  was  not  to  that 
wretched  woman,  Guise's  fears  only,  that  you  owed 
your  safety  in  part — Therese  remarked — but  also  to 
Che  Jesuit's  anxieties.  He  knew  that  it  would  be  im< 
possible  long  to  detain  you  without  a  public  exposure. 
His  visit  to  Quebec  was  therefore  to  arrange  a  proper 
place  for  your  reception  :  but  have  you  no  strspi 


4*^ 


;* 


me,  ad' 
to  God^ 
•cy,  and 
Year." 
lor  did  I 
ler  •,  but 
3on,  and 
It  period, 
lyers  and 
1  thanks- 

Jew  Year, 
n  our  ap- 
y    pleased 
your  pros, 
ir  blessing 
ii  his  inter- 
had  been 
)ne  of  the 
mexpected. 
ecount  the 
aence  ;  and 
at  nothing 
ur  temporal 
lot   to  that 
you  owed 
-but  also  to 
vould  be  ira- 
lie  exposure, 
jge  a  proper 
)U  no  sttspi 


in 

doD  who  that  Priest  tedlly  is  7"  My  reply  was — *'St6; 
I  never  could  form  any  idea  of  the  place  or  his  nameJ* 
I  know  not  which  of  us  developed  the  strongest  shiver* 
ing,  when,  with  a  tremulous  voice,  scarcely  audible^ 
tiind  concealing  her  face  with  her  shawl,  she  uttered 
the  short  but  frightful  sentence — "  That  Priest  is  the 
father  of  iJiganu"  Tftis  electric  evolution  of  a  laby- 
rinth of  terrific  mysteries  was  indubitably  hurtfiil  to  my 
bodily  energies.  From  that  shock  I  never  recovered. 
However,  it  destroyed  at  once  a  11  the  prior  aversion  whicb 
I  had  constantly  experienced  to  become  acquainted  with 
the  history  of  our  mother.  Had  her  strength  admitted  ^ 
her  to  have  written  her  dreadful  tale,  I  should  rather 
have  pernsed  than  heard  it;  but  as  that  labor  wa* 
not  feasible  on  her  part,  I  resolved  if  pos»ilie  to  ascertain 
all  that  it  might  be  proper  for  me  to  know  of  her  past 
life  in  conversation  ;  as  I  judged,  however  repulsive  and 
awful  might  be  the  disclosures  which  she  could  make 
of  her  sinful  course,  that  all  her  other  sins  could  not 
possibly  transcend  in  enormity  the  single  atrocious 
wickedness  which  she  had  thus  avowed.  Therese 
saw  the  effect  which  her  most  unexpected  communica> 
tion  had  produced.  With  her  comparatively  blunted 
sensibilities,  she  had  not  nicely  comprehended  how  t 
should  feel ;  but  as  she  afterwards  stated,  the  harrowing 
fact  was  disclosed  to  me,  expressly  that  I  might  be  more 
anxious  to  know  her  biography,  as  well  as  our  own  in 
connection  with  her's,  and  as  of  unspeakably  higher  im« 
portance,  that  I  might  be  able  to  administer  spiritual  I 
knowledge  to  her,  exactly  adapted  to  her  necessitiev. 
Providentially,  my  brother,  you  were  sent  to  our  assirt- 

15 


^ 


■  1' '?,«, 


"■^mami 


mmm 


-IP 


■wiwwuiii  mw 


174 

auce.  I  directed  Roboirsic  to  transmit  me  some  books» 
the  value  of  which  1  knew  not  except  by  reference. 
But  1  gave  him  a  carte  blanche,  with  my  earnest  pray- 
er that  you  might  be  directed  by  the  Holy  Spirit  to  send 
ine  those  volumes,  which  with  the  iScriptures  should 
make  your  mother  wise  unto  salvation.  1  carefully 
studied  every  book  before  Lxead  ii  to  Therese,  that 
I  might  not  unintentionally  mislead  her.  When  you 
again  examine  those  precious  memorials,  you  will 
perceive  how  attentively  youi-'Luiher,  your  Calvm,  your 
Claude,  and  your  Saurin  have  been  scrutinized  ;  and 
you  will  rejoice  to  be  assured,  that  their  illumina- 
tion irradiated  and  consoled  the  close  of  our  earthly 
pilgrimage. 


^' 


) 


'I 


The  hideous  information,  which  had  been  so  concise- 
ly but  impressively  <onveyed  to  me,  produced  no  de- 
rangement of  our  intercouise  upon  other  subjects  ;  but 
for  some  clays,  not  a  syllable  of  a  personal  reference 
was  exchanged.  We  talked  of  man  and  his  corrup- 
tion ;  of  sin  and  its  deformity  ;  of  the  hardness  of  the 
human  heart ;  of  he  infinite  compassions  aud  wonder- 
ful forbearance  of  God  ;  of  the  preciousness  of  the 
Saviour  ;  of  the  ne>  essity  of  regeneration  ;  of  the  con- 
trasts between  an  obilurate  siiiner  and  an  evangelical 
Christian  ;  of  the  value  of  the  soul ;  and  of  the  sub- 
limely unutterable  feelings  connected  with  a  just  view 
of  the  resurrection  morn  ; — and  it  is  a  cause  of  grati- 
tude, that  we  were  enabled  occasionally  to  forget  our- 
selves in  these  soaring  etherial  contemplations.  Al- 
though solicitous  to  bear  more  of  Thcrese's  way ward- 


^ 


lebookflt 
eference. 
lest  piay- 
it  to  send 
;s  should 
caietully 
rese,  that 
^hen  you 

you    will 

ilvin,  your 

zed;    and 

lUumina- 

ur  eavtbly 


1  so  concisC' 
;ed  no   de- 
bjects;  but 
il  reference 
his  coriup- 
iness  ol  the 
and  wonder- 
mess  of  the 
of  the  con- 
evangelical 
1  of  the  sub- 
h  a  just  view 
luse  of  grati- 
10  foigel  our- 
)lations.     Al- 
3e's  wayward- 


i 

■■:v: 


175 

ness  so  for  as  it  concerned  ourselves,  yet  I  almost  shud- 
dered at  the  anticipated  narrative.  She  perceived  my 
sudden  excitement,  whenever  a  remark  approximated 
the  boundary  bet\Veen  the  actual  past  of  guilt  and  the 
present  reality  of  compunction,  and  therefore  saga- 
ciously adoptJ^d  the  only  mode  by  which  proltably  the 
repulrtive  subject  eligibly  could  have  been  rtsumed. 
Some  circumstance  originating  in  our  temporary  feel- 
ings had  led  our  conversHtion  to  the  suljectof  human 
mortality,  and  its  momentous  consequences.  There 
had  been  an  indistinct  allusion  to  the  possil  iiity  of  a 
future  personal  reco^aiitiori  of  e;tclj  other  b^  earthly 
associates.  On  this  point,  Therese  had  bet«)re  declared 
me  a  visionary;  but  she  then  selected  the  mteiesfing 
theme  as  a  key  to  the  elucidation  of  all  t  he  secrets  of 
our  earthly  existence.  "I  suppose,  then — said  Therese 
—  although  you  may  never  see  your  broi  her  Diganu 
any  more  upon  earth,  you  expect  to  meet  hmi  again 
in  heaven?"  Well  did  she  app^'ciate  how  tlie  rcci^ilec- 
tion  and  mention  of  you  v-ver  cjAidted  as  an  unfailing 
cordial  to  my  peiturbed  spirits.  1  ufihesitating^ly  replied 
— "Can  I  doubt  it?  Shail  we  p(»ssess  less  discern- 
ment, knowledge,  and  Chrstian  alTect.Jii  in  the  invisi- 
ble world  of  light  and  pekiec:ion,  thin  in  this  gloomy 
vale  of  deficiency  and  sin  ?  Is  not  paradise  i>i/ealed  to 
us  as  the  general  assembly  and  church  of  the  first  born 
who  are  written  in  heaven,  the  spirits  of  just  men  made 
perfect  ?  and  1  confidently  believe  Digar<r.  will  be  there- 
and  I  hope  with  you,  Therese,  to  enjoy  th  At  sanctified 
undying  communion  of  which  on  earth  we  have  been 
deprived." 


176 


h 


■ 

I 


( 


"  If  your  interpretation  of  the  Scriptures  be  true,  the 
anticipation  is  probable — your  mother  answered — and 
you  think  that  you  will  meet  him  with  no  other  emotion 
l^an  inconceivable  ecstacy."  My  reply  was  this — 
**  Assuredly,  the  imperlectionu  and  the  dross  uf  our  sinful 
nature  thence  will  be  excluded  ;  and  in  the  elevatiou  of 
celestial  sanctity,  we  shall  be  conscious  ol  nothing  but 
the  most  refined  and  rapturous  bliss  "  My  companion 
inquired — "You  mean,  1  suppose,  that  congenial  per- 
sons who  have  always  lived  and  loved  in  the  reciprocal 
interchange  ol  the  purified  aflections  and  benevolence 
of  Christianity,  may  tiius  anticipatea  blessed  meeting?" 
I  responded — "No;  1  iliink  the  doctrines  of  iScripture 
make  no  exception.  Lazarus  could  not  personally  have 
known  Abrahan),  and  yei  from  our  Lords  intaUible 
delineation,  we  must  suppose ;  that  the  disembodied 
beggar  realized  the  very  essence  of  love,  cotnniunion^ 
and  enjoyment  with  the  beatified  patriarch."  Therese 
rejoined — "Even  admitting  this  consolatory  truth  in  re- 
ference to  persons  who  have  never  known  each  other, 
but  who  had  walked  through  hfe  quickened  by  the 
same  grace  and  in  a  congenial  spirit,  how  will  it 
affect  those,  who,  although  st  bsequently  penitent  and 
converted  have  had  no  opportunity  to  redress  the 
wrongs  which  they  had  done,  and  to  make  reparation 
to  those  whom  they  had  injured  .<?" — 1  did  not  perceive 
the  point  to  which  this  conversation  was  naturally  ten 
ding.  But  deeming  the  question  to  be  only  of  a  ge- 
neral character,  I  observed—"  The  nature  of  our  spirit- 
ual existence,  and  even  of  our  relations  in  the  New 
Jerasalem,  is  beyond  our  present  apprehensions ;  but 


'■m,mt/sf .  rjimia^^m^its^..  ■m^^f'*^  • 


-■'<i*^rm,0'^"i 


m 

an  who  are  admitted  intothat  state  aje  absolutely  divest- 
ed of  every  alloy,  and  consequently  the  evils  of  earth 
no  longer  will  be  sources  of  pain.  I  have  sometimes 
fancied  that  by  a  mysterious  process  now  incompre- 
hensible to  us,  even  the  recollection  of  prior  evil  may 
be  obliterated  from  the  mcniory  of  glorified  saints. 
This,  however,  is  not  an  article  of  faith  ;  nevertheless, 
it  may  be  useful  to  render  more  odious  that  corruptipn 
which  is  the  source  of  all  our  present  anguish,  and 
which,  if  not  removed  by  efficacious  grace,  will  ex- 
clude us  from  never-ending  felicity."  Therese  re- 
marked— "Eh  hien,  well !  then  I  presume,  Louise, 
that  you  would  feel  no  diminution  of  the  joys  of  para- 
dise to  meet  me  there."  I  answered,  with  manifestly 
more  tenJerness  and  ardor  than  ever  your  mother  had 
before  witneHsed  in  me — "Oh,  no!  it  is  now  my  daily 
solace,  that  I  trust  I  shall  be  spared  to  witness  youf 
assurance  of  hope  and  your  peaceful  removal  to  the 
city  of  thr  living  God/  This  effusion  of  my  affection- 
ate feelings  was  decisive.  Therese  was  completely 
overcome.  After  a  long  paune  she  stretched  her  arms, 
lifted  her  eyes  to  lieaveD,  and  with  the  deepest  fervor 
and  pathos  cried  out — "  God  of  mercy,  bless  my  Louise! 
how  can  I  atone  for  the  miseries  that  1  have  inflicted 
upon  her?  how  can  I  express  my  gratitude  to  thee,  for 
the  comfort  of  her  presence  in  my  solitude  and  afflic- 
tion?" She  sunk  into  aspecics  of  reverie.  "Do you  think 
it  possible,  Louise — at  length  she  asked — that  I  shall 
ever  meet  you  in  heaven  ;  or  that  you  can  forget  what 
1  have  been  to  you?"  There  was  a  resistless  melting  of 
3i)Ul  in  her  tone  and  mannci  which  overpowered  me  i 


u 


f.'" 


J., .';••;■_ 


N 


Sj^^i-*-*^'^'    -'•'**■■'- 


mi.r^:iiiW^sBm 


,  * 


fl^-i 


m 


17a 

and  it  was  some  time  before  my  feelings  permitted  me 
to  reply — "  I  trust  that  we  shall  meet  in  heaven ;  and  I 
have  no  doubt  that  then  I  fc;hall  not  remember  any  of 
the  painful  occurrences  to  which  you  allude  T  With  the 
most  impatient  avidity  she  inquired — '*  How  can  you 
make  that  appear  ?"  I  thus  answered  her  question. 
**  Very  easily.  We  have  been  acquainted,  Therese, 
scarcely  six  months  in  this  convent,  and  my  present 
sensations  towards  you  are  as  different  Irom  those 
which  harrowed  ray  bosom,  when  {  read  your  letter  in 
the  garden,  as  the  recoil  from  a  serpent,  is  unlike  te 
the  embrace  of  a  friend." 

Tour  mother  had  conducted  me  te  the  very  poinl^ 
where  our  conversation  had  imperceptibly  tended. 
After  a  short  pause,  in  which  we  had  been  meditatiMg 
X)pon  that  change  in  our  mutual  relations,  which  our 
joint  unpremeditated  avowals  had  unfolded,  she  glan- 
ced me  with  expressive  solicitude  and  tenderness, 
and  again  asked — "  Do  you  sincerely  believe  that  you 
will  meet  Diganu  in  the  paradise  of  the  blessed  ?"  I 
replied — "  ALL  that  lonce  knew  of  him,  and  all  which 
Kohoirsic  has  since  so  imperfectly  stated,  convinces  me 
that  upon  Christian  principles,  such  a  confidence  may 
f^ecurely  be  indulged."  Thcrese  impatiently  inquired  ; 
•^  Then  if  I  should  be  there  as  you  wish,  how  will 
your  brother  meet  me  7'-  I  instantly  discerned  how 
adroitly  Therese  had  completed  her  design ;  but  it  was 
toti  late  to  retract,  and  I  was  obliged  to  narrate  my 
history  from  the  period  of  my  departure  from  Lorette 
fintil  the  day  of  our  wretched  separatii^p.    The  st^ry 


'..%;■ 


'  ^«1m$»«K»3-<c 


v'Tr  '^*-*ii,-^-^ti5 


/ 


•m 


tied  me 
;  and  I 
•  any  of 
Viththe 
•an  you 
question, 
rherese^ 
present 
m  those 
lettei  in 
mlike  te 


ry  poinf^ 
tended. 
ieditatit«g 
hich  our 
she  glan- 
indernes8| 
that  yoti 
raed?"    I 
all  which 
dnces  me 
ence  may 
inquired  \ 
how  will 
irned  how 
but  it  was 
arrate  my 
am  Loretie 
The  story 


179 

was  beneficial  to  our  mother.    From  it  she  derived 
encouragement.    In  unfolding  my  pungent  exerciseg, 
she  saw  a  reflection  of  her  own  agonized  feelings ; 
and  by  the  slow  advances  which  I  made  in  the  acquisi- 
tion of  saving  knowledge,  she  was  supported  with  the 
hope  that  her  personal  attainments  were  not  fruitless  ; 
while  in  th&  confidence,  that  the  incorruptible  seed  had 
been  formed  in  your  heart,  my  dear  Diganu,  she  ex- 
pressed unfeigned  gratitude  to  the  Friend  of  sinners. 
The  varied  subjects,  which  flowed  from  this  review  of 
my  life  while  I  resided  with  you,  furnished  a  plentiful 
source  of  thought  and  investigation.     Our  subsequent 
intercourse,  however,  was  very  irregular.     F^requeutly 
our  dialogues  were  little  more  than  question  and  answer, 
or  a  remark  en  passant,  as  I  read  the  Scriptures  or  some 
author  whose  remarks   interested   us.      Only  when 
neither  of  us   was  depressed  by  our  languor  and  ner- 
vous feelings,  did  we  appear  temporarily  to  forget  our^ 
selves,  our  situation  and  our  debility. 

"  Louise — said  the  sufferer  one  day,  as  I  Avas  reading 
to  her  Massillon's  sermon,  '  sur  les  Elus' — ]  cannot 
comprehend  how  any  persons  can  know  that  they  shall 
be  saved."  In  reply  I  observed — "Of  all  our  mental 
exercises,  and  of  all  our  religious  experience,  the  in- 
quiries connected  with  this  anxiety  are  the  most  inter- 
esting  and  important."  Therese  remarked — "  So  I 
now  feel ;  and  the  eloquent  dfecourse  which  you  are 
reading  induces  me  to  interrupt  your  progress,  that  I 
may  understand  by  what  means  you  have  been 
artabled  to  speak  so  confidently  upon  that  point."     Mj 


^RWH 


-mmtm 


180 


(.-.- 


■i* 


uiiswer  was — "  t  do  not  know  how  to  explain  this 
subject,  unless  1   retrace  my  own  convictions  and 
oxperience."    Your  mother  rejoined — "That  isexactly 
tny  meaning.     I  seem  to  apprehend  better  the  nature 
of  truth  when  it  is  embodied  in  the  personal  exercises  : 
and  when  you  say,  thus  I  thought,  and  felt,  and  acted, 
it  impresses  my  mind  with  double  force ;  because  it 
gives  to  the  illustration  of  doctrine  all  the  weight  of  cre- 
dible testimony."     I  subjoined — "  Already  Iha\^e  inti- 
mated to  you.  Therese,  that  eighteen  months,  or  more, 
elapsed  from  the  time  of  Marguerite's  communications 
until  the  beginning  of  my  residence  with  Diganu.   The 
whole  of  that  period  was  a  time  almost  of  darkness.    I 
kjarned  to  detest  the  grosser  iniquity  which  passed  be- 
fore me  ;  but  I  had  no  opportunity  or  means  to  acquire 
the  evangelical  substitute.     I  abhorred  the  hypocrisy 
and  the  licentiousness  of  the  Jesuits,  and  their  abandon- 
ed associates  in  orime,  but  I  knew  nothing  of  Chris- 
tian sincerity  and  the  holiness  of  the  gospel.     All  the 
attempts  to  convince  me,  that  after  death  man  is  no 
more,  were  p,r,.i  vailing.     My  soul  revolted  from   the 
idea  of  living  in  tiensuality,  and  then  to  be  annihilated. 
A  dawning  of  light   came  upon  my  mind  respecting 
fhereal'ty  of  Purgatory,  and  the  worship  of  saints  and 
images  ;  but  I  do  not  remember  that   my  doubts  led 
CD  any  essential  result.     My  disbelief  of  the  J\4ass  was 
more  influential ;  for  Marguerite,  in  the  form  of  two 
questions,  had  given  me  a  theme  for  constant  examina- 
tion.    Incidentally  she    had   mentioned    something 
iibout  concession  anrl  going  to  Mass  at  Easter — '  do  you 
ihtnk  J  asked  the  dying  Christian  ;  that  the  holy  Sa» 


■M^ 


M^n-aei 


.,— ^,^- 


'm0'*^' 


^■'    .   %^, 


181; 

viour  would  permit  himself  to  be  handled  by  the  vilest 
sinnera  iu  the  world  /  Can  you  believe  thai  such  wretch- 
ei  as  the  Jesuit  Priests  whom  I  have  described  to  yoa 
are  able  to  turn  a  morsel  of  dough  into  their  God,  and 
then  swallow  the  Almighty  /"  Therese  suddenly  , 
interposed — '*  Well,  indeed  that  is  extraordinary,  la 
my  worst  days,  that  very  notion  sometimes  came  into 
my  minil ;  hut  it  only  hardened  my  conscience.  It 
induced  me  to  esteem  and  even  delight  in  the  opinion, 
thai  all  the  picturcj  of  Pursratory  and  the  Jesuit's  ter- 
rific denuncuitions  about  the  future  hell,  were  only  ft 
phantom,  and  that  religion  iti^elf  was  their  own  cunning 
artiuce  and  priestcraft.     But  go  on  with  your  story." 

"The  influence  of  this  question  was  great  and  per- 
manent— ^1  continued — because  it  led  me  to  understand 
something  of  the  monstrous  absurdities  of  their  system, 
to  whi(  h  we  were  required  to  assent  upon  pain  of  ana< 
theiTui,  and  which  sentence  of  excommunication,  I 
have  nodoubtjoften  consfitutes  the  excuse  for  J  he,  secret 
murder  of  their  abused  victims,  when  they  no  longer 
delight  the  Priests."  Tiierese^  with  a  most  expressive 
and  melancholy  countenance,  nodded  heras&ent.  "Mar^ 
guerite  paused  for  my  answer,  I  added — '  I  must  not 
dispute  our  holy  mother  the  Church — was  my  reply — 
you  know  the  Priests  teach  us,  that  this  is  a  deep 
mystery  not  to  be  pryed  into  by  the  common  people, 
but  only  to  be  believed  and  adored.'  The  old  woman 
rather  pettishly  retorted — "  Nonsense  ;  if  a  Jesuit  tells 
me  that  he  can  change  the  river  into  a  horse,  must  I 
Mieve  him  7  and  when  to  prove  it,  he  has  mumbled 


mt 


H- 


182 

tfver  some  Latin  which  I  neither  hctxi  nor  understand, 
am  I  to  admit  his  assertion  to  be  true,  althoiii^h  I  see 
the  river  flowing  before  my  eyes,  and  can  drink  ite 
Water  aa  us^ual  f  Ah  !  ma  chere,  My  dear ;  they  de- 
ceive you,  and  unless  you  take  care,  you  will  find  hat 
wicked  infidels  who  talk  and  peiform  ^  '  h  blaspl  imy 
con'^ei  ning  God,  with  more  inipudeiice,  will  avt)v  and  ^ 
pracrise  their  heaslly  principles  respecting  wor  len." 
Therese  hastily  remarked — "  Marguerite  well  tiider- 
stood  the  aulyect.  Her  inference  was  coiieci.  Per-  " 
sons  who  ca  I  be  seduced  to  profess  as  their  belief,  that 
a  shameless  Roman  Priest  can  make  the  Lo  d  Jesus 
Christ  for  iis  to  eat,  can  be  taught  to  affirm  every  ab- 
surdity and  corruption.  As  u  natural  consequence, 
when  we  are  assured  that  the  Jesuit  holds  our  destiny 
in  his  hands,  to  insure  his  favor,  we  submit  to  ail 
that  he  wishes  an«l  orders.  This  1  wofuily  knew  to  be 
(rue ;  but  wliat  was  the  result  in  your  own  medita- 
tions /"  To  this  question  i  replied — "  L  was  in  contin- 
ual perplexity,  not  so  much  from  the  doctrinal  contra- 
diction which  she  adduced  as  from  its  application  :  but 
I  could  never  afterwards  separate  ihe  ideas  which  she 
thus  had  comoiued.  1  was  assuredly  convinced,  that 
it  deinandcid  less  eifroniery  to  seduce  a  thoughtless 
$irl,  than  to  propound  as  the  fundamental  article  of 
religious  faith,  a  blasphemously  utter  impossibility. 
The  scenes  which  I  had  witnessed,  the  opinions 
which  I  heard,  the  attempts  to  corrupt  my  own  princi- 
ples, my  aversion  to  the  hypocritical  course  of  life  con- 
tinually around  me,  the  contrasts  hr  een  demure- 
ttesB  and  levity,  profession  and  practice,  guilt  and 


"v 


183 


staod, 
[  L  see 
nk  ite 
ey  de- 
ft  hat 

It 

)hemy 
\v  and  ^ 
)r  len.** 
iiider- 
Per- 
ef,  that 
J  Jesue 
;ry  ab- 
|uence, 
destiny 
to  ull 
>\\  to  be 
tiled  ita- 
contin- 
cotitra- 
n  :   but 
ich  she 
d,  that 
ightless 
tide  of 
isibility. 
)piQion6 
I  pririci- 
ife  con- 
iemure 
M  and 


absGlutioD,  and  the  reeoUectiQp  of  Magaerite's  pictucc 
of  conventual  hfe,  all  convinced  me  of  her  veracity, 
and  I  tacitly  admitted  that  the  Priest's  system  and 
doiniirs  are  equally  detestable  ;  hut  I  had  no  truth  and 
no  snncity  as  an  equivalent.  Long  before  we  went  to 
Jacques  Cartier,  I  had  secretly  rejected  the  adoration  of 
images  and  the  invocation  »f  saints,  except  when  I 
was  obliged  to  join  with  oth  -n  the  ceremonial ;  but 
then  1  was  an  infidel,  for  .  iit^ed  no  other  worship, 
My  situation,  however,  may  be  briefly  described  as  a 
state  of  desire.  1  perceived  the  gross  darkness  and 
danger  of  my  previous  condition,  and  1  longed  for  light 
and  deliverance.  That  I  had  gone  astray  as  a  lost 
sheepj  I  clearly  ascertained  :  but  how  to  discover  the 
right  path  1  knew  not ;  nevertheless,  it  was  my  con- 
stant solicitude.  Without  exactly  comprehending  my 
object,  doubtletis  I  often  silently  prayed  foi  right  instruc- 
tion ;  and  I  distinctly  recollect,  that  I  realized  a  restless 
anxiety  to  read  that  Bible,  of  which  Marguerite  had 
spoken.  Thus  the  time  passed  ;  if  I  did  not  under- 
stand truth  and  goodness,  that  I  might  love  and  enjoy 
them  ;  I  very  clearly  discerned  that  which  was  gross- 
ly erroneous  and  evil,  and  the  curse  of  them,  I  deter- 
mined resolutely  to  avoid."  Your  Mother  remarked — 
"Inmany|xjinta,lcan,understand  theseex  rcises.  Some 
of  these  feelings  which  you  have  specified  have  been 
my  own ;  only  combined  with  other  sensations,  which 
you  happily  can  never  know*  I  cannot  say  that  I  have 
possessed  the  great  desire  of  which  you  speak,  neither 
had  I  some  time  since  the  faintest  glimpse  of  the  true 
light ;  but  I  perceived  that  all  which  I  had  believed 


IMAGE  EVALUATION 
TEST  TARGET  (MT-3) 


1.0 


I.I 


2.5 


>^  li^   III  2.2 
li:  i;£   12.0 


1.8 


IJ5     J4 

1.6 

— 

'^ 6"     — 

► 

7 


Photographic 

Sciences 
Corporation 


23  WEST  MAIN  STREET 

WEBSTER,  N.Y.  14580 

(716)  872-4503 


^ 


r 


i^ 


to  b«  true  was  false,  and  that  my  wkele  life  waa  aft 
odious  tissue  of  atroekyaseriminality.  Ah  f  what  firea 
of  misery  did  the  review  enkindle  hi  my  bosom— and 
layiDg  her  hand  on  her  heart  with  most  affectingemotioii 
—they  are  not  yet  extinguished ,'  hut  thanks  be  to  God! 
these  were  not  intertwined  with  your  other  sufTeringe. 
You  had  not  the  gnawing  worm  of  sleepless  remorse 
Id  add  horror  to  your  gloom,  and  an  agonized  consdence 
thundering  wo  and  despair  hoth  asleep  and  awake — 
and  clasping  her  hands,  after  a  long  pause,  amid  con> 
Tulsive  shuddering,  she  faintly  articulated — "  God  be 
merciful  to  me  a  sinner!" 


i  1 'irr 


'■L*tl'i''i: 


'!d> 


l-!-.f> 


I. 


•    "  Ah,  Therese ! — I  atiswered — every  heart  knowetb 

.    its  own  bitterness.    I  cannot  unfold  to  you  what  I  felt, 

what  for  a  long  time  I  realized,  and  what  even  now 

M:        .      l^equently  agitates  me,  when  I  recur  to  that  eventful 

sight,  in  which  Diganu  and  Chretien  so  providentially 

discovered  me.    Often  am  i  almost  petrified  at  the 

^      .  thought  of  my  then  hopeless  situation.     But  God  has 

■       been  very  gracious  to  me.     Yet  when  I  reflect,  that  I 

^^.i.    was  on  the  very  threshhold  of  the  eternal  world,  an 

,  .,      '      Unthinking,  and  impenitent  sinner  more !  O!  who  can 

'^       bear  the  awful  thought;  probably  chargable  with  a 

mad  jump  from  the  icy  rock  at  Lorette  into  (he  abyss  of 

^'■'i  r*    everlasting  fire  ;  I  also  have  passed  through  houra  of 

;4^.    anguish,  and  $hed  tears  of  sorrow,  for  which  all  that 

>4      earth  calls  good  and  great,  as  a  compensation,  would 

■i;    be  less  than  nothing  and  vanity."    Therese observed— 

^    A    ,  •*  I  have  always  acquitted  you  of  any  impropriety  and 

guilt  on  that  occasion ;  for  I  thought  ycu  said  that 


■>■■ 


ill. 


'Ammm^mvsty 


hoi  fir«6 
^— and 

jcmodoii 

etoOodI 

uflfering*. 

I  remoriO 

awake — 
Linid  con- 
-«  God  be 

rtknowcth 
what  I  felt» 
even  now 
It  eventful 
widentially 
fied  at  the 
ut  God  has 
fleet,  that  I 
world,  Bn 
y !  who  can 
able  with  a 
theabyesof 
rh  houi-8  of 
lich  all  that 
Ltion,  would 
le  observed— 
jropriety  and 
ou  b-aid  that 

.  ■  ■ .  ^'vait- '  '' 
•     (1      W  ■ 


-<--^  M-.''    lip;*; ;.. : . 

yoii#6raiiot'do1(UHaoi]s,  iittd  hid  no  fecoliecdoti  of  any 
thing  w^ksh  succeeded  after  you  stood  in  the  front  of 
tile  church,  until  you  found  yourself  among  the  Indian 
^Omen?^    I  replied — "That  v  the  very  point  in,  i 
Which  I  am  dO  wonderfuUy  indebted  to  the  goodness  ot 
Ood.    Could  I  be  convinced,  that  iri  the  fuH  poesesBion^ 
of  my  senses  as  a  rational,  accountable  creature,  I  ha^vf" 
attempted  the  leap  from  that  memorable  rock,  I  ehoula  . 
never  know  abiding  pisace.    But  as  your  own  expe- 
rience has  told  you,  nothing  is  more  difficult  than  for  ^^ 
persons  to  draw  the  precise  line  of  distinction  between 
the  sudden  paroxysms  of  an  irresponsible  delirium,  and' 
that  effervescence  which  is  both  the  cause  and  the 
effect  of  guilt.    To  illustrate  exactly  my  meaning,  t 
will  appeal  to  yourself,  Therese  ;  does  your  conscience 
acquit  you  of  all  guilt,  because  in  many  of  those  acts 
which  you  most  lament  and  abhor,  you  were  inveigled  ' 
by  thesophistry  and  enticements  of  the  Jesuit  Pretres  ?" 
— She  instantly  replied — "Oh,  no  !  I  feel  that  I  was 
bi&sely  criminal."     I  then   propounded  the  question' 
— '"  But  you  would  not  voluntarily  have  engaged  in 
those  shocking  acts  ?^    In  answer  Therese  observed 
— "  Assuredly  not.    Titiated  as  were  my  sentiments, " 
the  sins  which  I  committed  most  probably  would  have 
been  avoided  had  I  been  surrounded  with  associates  of 
different  principles,  character,  and  habits."    I  rejoined^ 
— «  Then  you  at  once  perceive  the  difficulty  of  my 
distinguishing  between  that  which  was  voluntary  a^  "* 
criminal,  and  that  which  was  the  consequence  of  physi- 
cal and  moral  iiulapaGity.    It  was  my  grand  defect  oa* • 
that  occasion  that  I  did  not  offer  my  broken  incoherent^ 

16 


*'*V,'!' 


.■'•     '^     MMi'"' 


-\'' 


i 


1-^' 


prayer  to  God.    I  had  no  correct  idea  of  the  blessed 
Savior,  as  our  refuge  and  strength  in  distress,  th# 
hearer  of  prayer,  or  deliverer,  a  house  of  defence^  ancf 
a  very  present  help  in  trouble  ;  but  be  pitied  my 
%norance,  and  according  to  his  promise,  answered  be- 
fore I  called.    Notwithstanding  my  inability  to  define 
all  the  demerit  attached  to  this  crisis  of  my  Ufe,  yet  it 
has  been  an  unfailing  source  of  humility  and  gratitude ; 
and  as  I  became  more  spiritually  enlightened,  that 
wondrous  interposition  of  his  merciful  providence  en- 
kindled  and  has  cherished  a  hope,  which  by  his  Spirit's 
aid  has  hitherto  defied  all  the  calamity  and  hardships 
that  since  have  been  ray  portion.     But  let  me  ask  you 
another  question,  Therese.     When  you  were  living 
without  God  iu  the  world,  can  you  assert,  that  during 
the  long  revolution  of  years,  you  were  altogether  un- 
conscious of  the  true  character  of  your  actions  ?" 


"  Unconscious ! — she  remarked,  after  a  pause — No, 
indeed  ;  full  well  did  I  know,  alas !  greedily  did  I  eat 
the  forbidden  fruit ;  or  why  should  I  now  be  tortured 
with  the  retrospect  ?'V  To  this  acknowledgment  I  an« 
swered — ''This  then  is  the  argument  for  genuine  con- 
trition. Of  the  evils  of  which  we  are  undeniably  guil- 
ty, there  can  be  no  hesitation  kespecting  the  duty  of 
penitence :  but  as  we  are  so  prone  to  deceive  ourselves, 
even  in  reference  to  those  of  which  the  guilt  is  not  so 
perceptible,  probably  the  Judge  of  all  decides  against 
us,  and  consequently  the  only  mpde  is  to  cast  ourselves 
at  the  footstool  of  mercy,  before  the  throne  of  graces 
prayiog  that  through  Jesys  Christ  our  Liord,  we  may 


iJ 


IU. 


«<'••'.■■- 


''4-; . 


n  .*i,_.  ."i 


be  detivered  from  the  body  of  this  death."  Therese  in- 
quired—if  How  long  did  you  continue  in  that  hesitating, 
or  rather  beclouded  suite  of  mind  in  which  you  left 
the  Pretre  ^  My  reply  to  this  question  gratified  you^ 
mother.  "  I  perceived  immediately  after  my  arrival 
at  Diganu's  house,  that  he  and  /^hretien,  like  their 
associates,  ivere  thoughtless  and  indifferent  to  all  good  • 
but  that  they  indulged  no  directly  flagrant  sinful  habits. 
There  is  an  attractive  naivete  about  Diganu ;  and  I 
became  deeply  interested  in  him.  My  apartment 
was  amply  provided  with  idolatrous  trash,  which  1 
speedily  removed ;  and  took  the  earliest  opportunity 
to  provide  myself  a  Bible.  That  treasure  I  obtained 
through  the  medium  of  an  American  prisoner  or  re> 
fugee  who  visited  us,  and  with  whom  Chretien  was 
intimate  ;  and  who  piously  exulted,  as  he  said,  in  my 
escape  from  the  captivity  of  i  he  devil.  He  n  arked  a 
number  of  passages  which  he  requested  me  first  to  read 
and  study  ;  and  gave  me  also  a  book  of  prayers ;  and 
thus  reminded  me  of  Marguerite's  admonition  to  pray 
for  wisdom  that  I  might  compreheud  the  Scriptures. 
The  light  soon  beamed  upon  my  mind.  God  who  is  rich 
in  mercy  knew  the  buidens  which  I  should  have  to  bear, 
and  therefore  kindly  provided  me  with  ail  the  strength 
necessary  for  my  task.  He  blessed  the  perusal  of  his 
own  book  to  my  soul ;  and  having  cast  off  my  idots,  I 
submitted  myself  entirely  to  his  dbposal.  Still  I  was  a 
mere  child  in  Christian  knowledge.  I  dared  not  to  go 
out.  I  had  no  helper  or  assistant;  and  my  chief  acquisi- 
tion was  fortitude  in  discarding  my  former  errors,  and  in 
adhering  to  evangelical  truth}  as  it  might  be  revealed  to 


''■'■^^'. 


'^% 


'?:^^s^mm»*--^:i 


'-  ■'-■,/"■ 


'  '1  -    '       '^     *  , 


V\' 


it 


I 


my  undeKstaodiog.**  Theme  rtmaiked— '^Yet  it 
^)pearatoine;  that  ycju  ixiust  have  attaiaed  inucl> 
inequamtaiice  with  the  Scriptureis,  to  have  repder^  y<;fM 
sp  bold  in  defending  your  opinions  to  Di|ganu  an^ 
Chretien.''  In  answer  I  observed.-^"  That  was  only 
after  their  discovery  of  my  principles.  Tften  did  we 
converse  upon  the  subject  oftheir  worship  and  professed 
belief,  and  as  they  advanced  the  common  place  non; 
sense  in  their  own  support,  I  was  obliged  to  defend 
my  novel  opinions;  and  I  thank  God,  that  he  so  en- 
abled me  to  justify  myself,  that  iDiganu  became  a  sin- 
cere disciple  before  we  were  separated,  and  Chretien 
was  so  well  disposed  that  the  closing  scene  at  Lorettift 
opened  his  eyes.  I  was  more  than  a  match  for  theqi 
at  disputation,  because  I  was  assisted  by  the  word  '''^ 
truth ;  but  in  reference  to  the  experimental  appUcatiOQ 
of  the  divine  oracles,  I  knew  very  little,"    ^  /^^  ^^  .^^ 

^  "  That  is  thd  point'^subjoined  Therese— from;  whic^ 
we  have  diverg^l.  I  want  f*  understand  how  the 
truth  becomes  so  clear  and  powerful  in  the  mind,  that 
we  can  be  assured  of  our  future  happiness?"— ^I  re- 
plied thus-^"  It  will  be  necessary  for  me  to  explain  a 
little.  I  suppose  you  will  admit,  when  the  Saviour 
said  to  the  woman  in  Simon's  house,  *  thy  sins  are  for- 
given thee,  thy  faith  hath  saved  thee,  go  in  peace ;'  that 
she  knew  to  all  certainty  that  she  was  accepted  of  God, 
and  interested  in  his  favor.?"  Therese  nodded  her  assent, 
"But  how  did  she  become,  assured  of  it?"  I  asked. 
^'Because  the  Saviour  affirmed  it" — answered  Therese. 
I  next  in(j[uired~-"But  was  it  for  her  virtues,  her 


^. 


■5  -. 


\L 


\\ 


^.-r**(:i^;*rf;^_«|^ 


i»>»i>»ii.i>itf''iii' 


l^>.vi:^-i,itoti 


W^fmi'^'f^ismm^^^sm. 


(  I 


■iV . 


k . 


189 


-«Yet  it 
ud  inucl> 
Dder^  yoM 
gaou  an4 
,  was  only 
en  did  we 
d  professed 
place  ooQr 
to  defend 
t  he  so  en- 
ame  a  sin- 
I  Chretien 
)  at  LorettjB 
)  for  theni 
le  word  (p^ 
applic^Mpa 

*  .■■»  ;•!-. 

irom;  which 
d  how  the 
mind,  that 
jsr'-,I  re- 

o  explain  a 
le  Saviour 
inw  are  for- 
e8<^ ;'  that 
ted  of  God, 
her  assent. 
"  I  asked. 
m)  Theres9. 
irtues,  her 


merits,  her  exeuses,  or  her  knowledge,  that  she  was  re- 
ceived and  absolved  T  Therese  said — "  No,  it  was  of 
God's  mercy,  I  suppose,  for  she  could  not  pay  the  debt. 
She  cast  herself  in  humble  reliance  upon  his  goodness ; 
helieved  in  his  power ;  and  loved  him  for  his  favor  be- 
stowed upon  her.  But  how  does  this  affect  the  question 
of  our  knowledge,  when  Jesus  Christ  is  not  here  per- 
sonally to  speak  to  us  ?"  I  replied—"  The  Scriptures 
are  given  us  as  a  rule  by  which  to  try  our  spiritual 
condition.  All  the  doctrines  which  we  read  must  be 
received  as  if  God  himself  proclaimed  them,  as  he  did 
the  law  from  Mount  Sinai.  All  his  commandments 
must  be  ackpuwledged,  as  if  they  were  enforced  upon 
us  by  miracles.  All  his  threatenings  must  be  credited 
^s  much  as  if  we  were  witnessing  their  actual  fulfilment 
in  the  case  of  Pharaoh.  And  all  his  promises  should 
be  accepted  and  applied  by  faith  equally  as  though 
they  were  directly  addressed  to  us ;  provided  only,  that 
we  can  humbly  hope  the  characteristics  of  his  disciples 

are  descriptive  of  ourselves."    Therese  again  asked 

"  But  may  we  not  be  deceived  in  our  estimate  of  our 
own  state  before  God  ?"  I  onswered — "Certainly :  but . 
God  hath  promised  to  guide  those  into  all  truth,  who 
patiently  wait  for  hb  instructions  and  confide  in  his 
word ;  and  as  his  blessed  revelation  is  given  expressly  to 
enlighten  our  darkness,  we  may  confidently  hope,  that 
he  will  not  withdraw  its  shinings."  Therese  rejoined— 
"I  do  not  perceive  how  this  excludes  the  difficulty. 
Many  cannot  read  the  word,  and  consequently  will 
have  to  lose  its  benefits  in  'illustrating  their  true  situa- 
tion before  God."   In  reply  I  remarked— **Fpr 


I 


\ 


^^^: 


16* 


.;i5 
■1? 


r.ilS-»S 


.  <«!*<*E..'. 


«^^W;«'— '^^»^'*^  - 


'•-i:»:wvi,n 


I  1 


190 


\ 


.) 


ynxpote,  the  ministers  of  di9  Gospel  ^ere  appointed 
•to  teaeh  the  people  th|  way  of  righteousness  both 
^1  word  and  doctrine,  that  they  may  be  able  to 
grew  in  grace.''    Your  mecher  answered — **Bo  then 
it  seems  after  all  that  we  must  have  recourse  to  the 
Priest,  and  believe  all  that  be  utters/'    My  rejoind- 
er was  this — "Exactly  the  contrary.    The  Priest's  lips 
fhould  keep  knowledge,  and  the  people  should  search 
the  Scriptures.    If  the  Bible  were  open  to  every  man's 
inspection,  then  it  is  plain  that  the  Priests  could  not 
sropagate  their  wonderful  and  soul-destroying  delu- 
sions; and  every  person  would  learn  to  peruse  the 
contents  of  the  Gospel  for  himself     But  now  the 
priests  prohibit  the  people  from  all  knowledge  both  in 
the  means  and  end ;  and  thus  in  cunning  craftiness, 
lie  in  wait  to  deceive.    Besides  I  would  ask  you,  The- 
rese,  whether  it  is  not  much  more  probable,  that  ano- 
(her  person  who  can  only  judge  by  the  outward  appear- 
ance will  be  deceived  in  deciding  our  true  characters, 
lather  than  a  sincere  believer  who  knows  the  plague 
of  his  own  heart,  and  who  closely  examines  himself 
by  the  word  of  God?    And  also  is  it  not  much  more 
*  likely,  that  he  will  be  deluded  in  estimating  his  own 
character  who  trusts  to  the  opinion  of  a  Jesuit,  whose 
declaration  will  be  given  according  to  the  money 
which  he  expects  to  receive ;  rather  than  he  who  ap- 
proaches unto  God  with  all  sincerity,  uttering  David's 
impressive  prayer  < search  me,  O  God,  and  know  my 
heart;  try  me  aod  know  my  thoughts  ;  and  see  if 
there  be  any  wicked  way  in  me,  and  lead  me  in 
the  way  everiasting?"   Thercse  answered—"  I  sup- 
pose therefore,  from  what  you  havo  said,  that  the  as- 


v"T.-T*w  f-*»—t*«**T**r-f™ -" 


Ur^fyf^^glft^ 


'  191 

surance  of  wbich  you  speak  is  obtained  only  from  « 
comparisoo  of  our  hearts  aad  characters  with  the  watd 
of  God ;  and  according  as  that  determines  we  are  to 
believe."  Upon  this  remark  I  observed — **  Undoubt- 
edly \  because  the  Gospel  assures  us,  that  by  it  we  at 
last  shall  be  judged.  If  the  Scripture  had  said,  that 
God  would  pronounce  our  final  sentence  according  to 
the  will  of  a  Jesuit  Priest,  there  would  be  a  clear  rule 
of  duty  implied,  to  secure  his  favor  at  any  sacrifice ; 
but  so  far  fro  n  it,  the  Judge  of  all  authoritatively  pro- 
Qounces,  that  every  person  shall  give  an  account  of 
himself  unto  God  ;  and  be  judged  according  to  that  he 
hath  done  in  tbe  body,  whether  it  be  good  or  bad,  with* 
out  any  reference  to  the  reproach  or  approbation  of 
mankind." 


"But  if  we  are  sinners,  and  of  that  I  am  certain — 
Therese  objected — and  we  shall  be  judged  according 
to  our  doings,  I  do  not  yet  comprehend  how  we  shall 
escape  condign  punishment ;  and  therefore  I  cannot 
admit  that  there  is  any  sure  foundation  for  that  strong 
confidence  of  which  you  speak.  Indeed,  it  appears 
to  me  to  partake  v«ry  much  of  the  same  presumption 
that  in  the  Pretres  we  condemn."  I  thus  replied-* 
"  The  cases  are  totally  different.  In  trusting  for  ever- 
lasting life  upon  the  plain  direct  testimony  of  the  word 
of  God,  we  only  receive  the  consolation  which  the 
Scriptures  were  intended  to  bestow  upon  the  humble, 
broken  hearted  penitent :  but  in  listening  to  a  Priest's 
absolution,  we  rob  God  of  his  divine  prerc^tiveto  par- 
don sins  :  and  though  the  Scriptures  plainly  declare 
the  will  of  the  heavenly  Majesty,  yet  we  believe  a  sin- 


1    > 


K>*i*^^,^:4,v> 


192 

ful  Pretre  when  he  asserts  a  direct  contradiction  to  the 
truth  of  Jehovah."  Therese  impatiently  said— "Now 
I  begin  to  discern ;  it  never  struck  me  so  clearly  before^ 
that  a  Priest's  pretended  claim  to  absolve  from  sin  is 
an  insult  to  the  Divine  Being,  and  a  power  which  in  its 
Ttry  nature  can  only  belong  to  the  Searcher  of  Hearts ; 
but  this  has  not  yet  relieved  my  mind  in  reference  to  the 
bad  doings  of  manlcind.  Knowing  himself  to  be  guilty 
before  Qod  of  innumerable  sins,  how  can  be  say,  yet  I 
am  saved  V*  I  rejoined — "  You  already  have  admitted 
the  fact  in  reference  to  the  woman  in  Simon's  house, 
when  the  Lord  audibly  spoke  to  her.  The  principle 
and  the  result  are  the  same,  although  the  medium  dif- 
fers." Therese  earnestly  interposed — "Explain  your- 
self." I  continued — "  The  Gospel  proclaims  to  every 
laboring,  heavy  laden  sinner,  that  if  he  will  approach 
unto  Christ,  the  Saviour  will  receive  him  and  give  him 
rest.  Now  this  presupposes  a  consciousness  of  the  bur- 
den of  guilt ;  an  earnest  desire  of  deliverance  from  it ; 
unfeigned  sorrow  for  the  cause  of  the  weighty  load  ; 
aud  hope  with  confidence  in  the  willingness  and  ability 
of  the  Saviour  to  give  peace  to  our  souls."  Therese 
remarked — "  Still  I  do  not  comprehend  the  application 
of  this  certainty  to  the  understanding  and  the  con- 
science." To  this  observation,  I  replied  thus — "  The 
'Work  of  Divine  mercy  in  the  heart  of  man  is  through 
faith  as  the  instrument.  Every  thing  made  known  in 
the  Scripture  is  a  subject  of  pure  belief.  Its  former  his- 
tories, its  prophecies  yet  to  be  fulfilled,  its  sublime  and 
unearthly  doctrines,  its  purely  spiritual  requisitions,  its 
awful  denunciations  in  reference  to  eternity  ;  and  its 


k... 


-^,.i  :.-:-.,.-„ 


v-/-*-'    — >--ryWltl"*^ 


■•:ti>  ..-(!.    .ii^J^V 


'■ 

-'fl' 

^f% 

■t^- 

- 

SJiiSKVpji'r'r---^'?^'  , 

-..^,.-"— • 

-^ffsr^ 

?i?^SZ2 

193 

coBfolatory  promises  of  glory  evorlasting  are  nonf 
of  them  objecUi  of  aense ;  to  l^at  witliout  faith,  the 
Bible  and  iU)  treasures  are  to  us  a  nuo-entity.''  The- 
tese  hastily  interrupted  me — "  Now  I  see.  You  haft 
opened  the  way  for  me  to  escape  from  all  my  anxie- 
ties upon  this  topic,  but  go  on  !"  I  continued-:-'^  It  is 
plain  therefore  ;  that  all  the  portions  of  Divinittruth 
rest  upon  similar  authority,  and  that  the  basis  of  our 
trust  is  the  same.  The  Christian  assuredly  believes, 
t^at  the  Saviour  died  and  rose  again,  upon  the  general 
truth  of  Divine  revelation  as  affirmed  by  the  most  pow- 
erful testimony :  but  does  not  the  sacred  book  by  the- 
same  apostolic  writer  also  declare  in  the  connected 
sentence, '  Jesus  our  Lord  was  delivered  for  our  oiTellr 
ces,  and  was  raised  again  for  our  justification.'  N(>w  if 
we  deny  (he  latter,  how  can  we  belieye  the  other  ?  For 

Paul  joins  them  tt^ether,  thereby  to  declare  both  the 
cause  and  the  eflectof  the  Ixtrd's  death  and  resurrec- 
tion." Therese  asked — "  Are  not  these  expressions 
general  and  only  intended  to  convey  the  meaning,  that 
the  Saviour  died  to  expiate  sin,  and  to  bestow  righteous, 
ness,  without  any  particular  design."  My  answer  was 
prompt — "  Certainly  not,  for  the  benefits  of  the  gospel 
are  all  purely  personal.  This  you  will  perceive,  if  you 
remember  that  the  figurative  expressions  which  are 
used  concerning  religion  imply  our  own  wants  and 
the  supply  <^  them.  The  consolations  of  redeeming 
mercy  are  called  the  bread  of  life,  the  water  of  life,  the 
pearl  of  great  price,  medicine,  raiment,  healing,  pardoUi 
communion  and  friendship.  These  are  all  personal 
acquisitions,  and  pre-suppose  a  direct  participation,  or 


■.|%*   V 


.;Ai,'>fff^N^^T>->i  t  -Ji  n*-—'-A 


..li^ 


r^ 


v^. 


y 


.  J 


n 


(hete  bleMingfl  would  be  umIcm.  WheSi  therefore, 
pure  religion  and  undefiled  ia  revealed  at  juitificatioQ, 
adoptioui  wisdom,  and  an  inheritance,  all  these 
terma  necessarily  purport  that  they  are  individual 
attainments  and  posnessions.  The  greatest  privilege 
and  attraction  of  Christianity  are,  that  it  is  a  matter  of 
perso^  concerp  to  all  its  disciples."  ..«    .      T 

Therese  rejoined — "  I  suppose  then,  you  mean  that 
we  are  not  only  to  believe  that  all  the  advantages  of 
the  gospel  are  designed  by  God  to  be  generally  die- 
tributed  ;  but  that  every  person  may  claim  and  obtain 
the  supply  of  mercy  according  to  his  own  necessities  ?"  I 
answered — "  Exactly,  and  it  is  upon  this  very  principle 
of  appropriation,  that  the  humble  and  sincere  believer 
Assuredly  confides.*'  Your  mother  then  inquired — "Do 
you  think,  Louise,  that  this  confidence  ipay  not  be  fal- 
lacious 7"  My  reply  was  this — "  We  may  be  deceived, 
Therese ;  but  the  cause  of  the  delusion  will  be  in  our* 
selves.  We  cannot  have  complied  with  the  rules  in 
that  case  to  ascertain  a  correct  decision."  Therese 
said — "  That  is  the  very  idea  which  I  wish  you  to  illus- 
trate ;  because  I  think  I  bhall  have  more  satisfaction, 
if  I  can  correctly  understand  this  important  matter." 
I  subjoined  to  my  foj-mer  remarks — "  I  have  already 
stated  that  the  whole  word  of  God  is  to  be  equally 
credited  as  of  one  authority.  Hence,  the  duties  must 
be  performed,  as  well  as  the  doctrines  and  promises  be- 
lieved." I  paused,  and  Therese  signified  her  approba- 
tion of  the  sentiment.  I  then  proceeded — "  Conse- 
quently, the  inquiry  must  be  entered  upon  according 


?^s«i' 


■ .     '{ 


■i 


¥ 


in 


therefore, 
itificatioD, 
all  these 
individual 
;  privilege 
matter  of 


nean  that 

ntages  of 

rally  die- 

od  obtain 

38itie8  ?"  I 

principle 

B  believer 

red— "Do 

ot  be  fal- 

deceived, 

e  in  our- 

rules  in 

Therese 

u  to  illus- 

isfaction, 

matter." 

already 

equally 

es  must 

mbes  be- 


approba- 
Conse- 
ccording 


u 


to  the  prefcriplkNU  of  the  sacred  volume.  The  Bibfa 
proclaims  pardon  to  the  gnilty  penitent  sinnner  as  aa 
infallible  truth,  therefore  the  sole  questions  are  ;  have 
I  experienced  that  godly  sorrow  which  needs  not  to  bft 
repented  of  ?  Do  I  unfeignedly  eredit  what  the  Almigh* 
ty  saith  7  Have  I  received  the  heavenly  nriessuge  of 
his  Son,  Jesus  Christ  7  And  the  true  answer  is  to  bt 
known  only  by  the  fruits  :  hatred  of  sin,  a  hearty  sur* 
render  to  the  Lord's  service,  and  a  steadfast  determina- 
tion to  believe  and  to  do  what  God  shall  require  of  us  ^ 
to  abstain  from  all  evil,  and  to  follow  on  to  know  the> 
Lord,  that  Lmay  live  to  his  glory  here,  and  dwell  in 
bis  presence  for  ever.  Now,  do  you  not  ttiink,  The- 
rese, that  a  person  with  an  honest  anxiety  not  to  be 
mistaken,  might  attain  to  a  conviction  that  these  were 
bis  governing  dispositions 7"  Therese  answered— "I 
should  believe  so  were  it  not  for  the  corruption  and  de« 
ceitfulness  of  the  human  heart.  I  therefore  asked  her 
— "  But  do  you  not  recollect,  that  God  has  promised, 
'my  grace  is  sulficient  for  thee,"  (hat  he  will  shine  into 
the  hearts  of  his  people  by  his  grace :  that  light  is 
sown  for  the  righteous  ;  and  that  they  shall  not  efiec- 
tually,  be  led  astray.  The  language  of  the  New  Tes- 
tament often  expresses  the  utmost  certainty — "  I  know 
in  whom  1  have  believed ;  we  know  that  we  have 
passed  from  death  unto  life ;  and  we  know  that  his 
testimony  is  true,  that  believing  we  might  have  life 
through  his  name ;"  virith  a  rich  variety  of  similar  pas-  *, 
sages,  all  encouraging  the  humble  disciple  of  the  Re- 
deemer, to  cultivate  and  enjoy  the  full  assurance  of  ' 
Jjaith  and  hope.**  Therese  replied — ^^  I  now  very  plainly 


■ 


■'fr--«9i, 


•^■^■••"^■^P!" 


"wiitlRnq 


r  '«A .' 


^r^ 


J  ( 


-V        I* 


i 


f" 


1 


r. 


'    f 


pitfi^ive/that  reHgflbn  k  nior«  a  perMrtiht  thini^bf '  tti^ 
heart,  than  I  had  erer  yet  undpretood  it.  I  hate  Dtil^ 
tilerefore  to  request,  Louise,  that  yoo  will  pray  for  itte^ 
that  I  may  receive  this  promised  light  and  comfort.'' 

Our  intercourse  was  partially  suspended  for  some 
days,  and  it  was  manifest  that  Therese's  attention  was 
engrossed  by  the  searching  application  of  Divine  trutlt 
(6  her  conscience.  I  rejoiced  to  understand,  that  shtl' 
was  deeply  salicitous  not  te  decide  incorrectly  respecting 
her  eternal  welfare.  There  was  such  a  vast  abyss  of 
d^eneracy  both  in  theory  and  practice  to  be  extermi- 
nated, that  she  often  expressed  a  doubt  concerning  the 
willingness  of  the  Saviour  to  rk<nsom  her;  and  I  Was 
pleased  to  hear  her  remark — "  I  have  one  fearful  sub* 
ject  to  embarrass  me,  Louise;  whether  all  my  companc> 
tibn  and  hatred  of  sin  may  not  be  the  consequence 
only  of  my  bodily  sufferings,  and  the  dread  of  judg- 
ment  and  future  punishment."  I  replied — ''Are  you 
sincere  in  your  present  exercises  and  desires?"  After 
a  pause,  she  answered — "  1  think  I  am :  I  have  endea- 
voured to  bring  my  conscience,  with  all  its  truth  add 
energy,  to  bear  upon  my  former  hateful  principles  and 
conduct;  and  I  humV>ly  hope,  that  lean  truly  say,  I 
long  to  be  filled  with  Christian  simplicity  and  gbdiy  sin- 
cerity." To  this  declaration,  I  replied — "  If  the  Lord 
should  restore  you  to  health,  could  you,  would  you 
enter  again  upon  the  same  course  of  life,  supposing  that 
you  should  be  without  restriction?'  Therese  shu'ddered ; 
«nd  with  all  the  strength  which  she  could  assume,  she 
said — "Never,  no  never;  I  prefer  death  even  now, 


't 


■>*«:. 


If.     ''H; 


L_ 


Ji 


■t 


tor 


g  of  i^ 
y  for  Itt*B^ 

fot  eome 
Bnitonwas 
ivitie  trutli 
J,  that  8h«>* 

respecting 
iBt  abyss  of 
be  oxicnni- 
cerning  the 

and  1  was 

fearful  sub- 

ly  companc- 
wnsequence 

ead  of  judg- 
—"Are  you 
res?"    Aft«r 
|iave  endea- 
its  truth  apd 
rinciples  and 

I  truly  say,  I 
ndgidlysin- 

« If  the  L«rd 
I,  would  you 
uppoeing  that 
jeshuildered; 
1  assume,  she 
h  even  now, 


m 


^\ih  all  its  perplexing  uncertainties."  I  subjoined^ 
"  Then  your  character  must  be  changed.''  She  in- 
stantly added — '* That  is  certain;  but  the  important 
query  follows ;  is  it  the  new  creature  in  Christ  Jesus  ? 
1  shall  never  !«  pacified,  until  I  can  ascertain  satis- 
factorily, that  the  old  things  are  passed  away."  "^ 

On  a  subsequent  occasion,  I  communicated  to 
Therese,  some  of  the  more  memorable  points  of  my^ 
experience  during  my  stay  in  the  convents,  part  c€ 
which  she  knew :  for  although  I  was  unconscious  ti 
the  fact,  shS  long  continued  to  reside  .in  the  same 
Nunnery.  The  narrative  was  beneficial  to  her ;  ad 
it  illustrated  the  operation  of  Divine  truth  upon  nif 
mind,  and  proved  that  neither  the  solitude,  privations, 
hardships,  nor  burdens  of  nay  almost  defenceless  bon- 
flage  could  destroy  the  effects  of  that  peace-speaking 
voice,  which  sustained  me  with  its  consolation,  as  it  reit- 
erated— 'Fear  thou  not,  I  am  with  thee,  be  not  diei- 
mayed,  I  am  thy  God,  I  will  strengthen  thee,  I  wilt 
help  thee ;  yea,  I  will  uphold  thee  with  the  right 
hand  of  my  righteousness.  In  one  of  my  most  dis- 
tressing and  dangerous  and  frightful  dilemmas,  wh6 
can  describe  the  efiect  produced  upon  my  feelings  by 
Che  Holy  Ghost's  kind  application  of  those  words  to 
my  heart — *  I,  even  I  am  he,  that  comforteth  you, 
Who  art  thou,  that  thou  shouldest  be  afraid  of  a  man 
that  shall  die,  and  of  the  son  of  man  ^  ho  shall  be  made 
as  grass;  and  forgettest  the  Lord  thy  Maker;  ani 
hast  feared  continually  every  day  because  of  the  fUrf 

17  ^ 


**« 


w 


■IMH 


Vr    t 


^*- 


..:<«^T^: 


■^>^ 


..^" 


198 

of  the  oppressor,  as  if  he  were  ready  tc  destroy,  and 
where  is  the  fuf}^  of  the  oppressor  ?" 


3k 


•.fti 


-,„-  hi 


The  protracted  seclusion  in  our  apartments  during 
the  long  winter  was  unfavorable  to  us,  and  our  conse> 
quent  debility  was  too  evident  even  to  ourselves.  It 
was  the  natural  result  of  the  inactivity  and  tedium  in- 
separable  from  the  convent.  The  most  pernicious 
effect  was  the  additional  nervous  derangement  which 
we  both  felt,  and  which  nothing  but  air  and  exercise  in 
the  garden  had  truly  mitigated.  On  one  occasion, 
when  our  minds  were  more  than  ordinarily  affected  by 
our  peculiar  situation,  I  read  to  Therese  a  number  of 
the  most  expository  scripturesfi  respecting  the  world  to 
come.  T  had  announced  theexhileraiing  uuth — "Our 
light  affliction  which  is  but  for  a  moment,  worketh  for 
us  a  far  more  exceeding  and  eternal  weight  of  glory, 
while  we  look  not  at  the  things  which  are  seen,  but  at 
tlie  things  which  are  not  seen  ;  for  the  things  which  are 
seen  are  temporal,  hut  the  things  which  are  not  seen 
are  eternal ;  for  we  know  that  if  our  earthly  house  of 
this  tabernacle  were  dissolved,  we  have  a  building  of 
God,  a  house  lot  made  with  hands,  eternal  in  the 
heavens.'  fehe  interrupted  my  progress.  "These 
subjects  have  strangely  affected  my  mind  lately — re- 
marked Therese — I  feel  very  different  from  what  I  used 
to  do  when  thin  king  of  death  and  futurity."  1  anxiously 
inquired — "  How  is  the  alteration  perceptible  ?" — Thcr 
fese  replied — "  I  cannot  accurately  describe  it ;  but  I 
do  not  experience  the  same  terror  at  the  contemplation 
of  leaving  the  world  as  formerly."    t  earnestly  request 


I 


/  --:;*■ 


i  r- 


^'^#^' 


#• 


"<lp 


troy,  and 


Its  during 

aur  conse- 

selves.    It 

tedium  in- 
pernicious 

lent  which 

I  exercise  in 

e  occasion, 

r  aflfected  by 
number  of 

he  world  to 

»uth— "Our 
workelhfot 

;hiof  gloryr 
seen,  but  at 
iffs  which  are 
are  not  seen 
hly  house  of 
a  building  of 
ernal  in  the 
ess.    "These 
ad  lately— re- 
)ra  what  I  used 
•  1  anxiously 
,tible?"— The. 

scribe  it  -,  but  I 

contemplation 

rnestly  request 


199  \ 

ed — "Describe  this  change  to  me.'*  Therese  answer- 
ed— "  My  feelings  assure  me  that  1  am  mpidly  declin- 
ing ;  cannot  you  perceive  it  V  My  own  convictions  of 
increasing  weakness  only  enabled  me  to  reply — "  Not 
much  ;  and  I  sup|)ose  the  reasons  are,  that  I  am  always 
with  you,  and  myself  gradually  becoming  more  feeble." 
Therese  continued — "  My  apprehensions  have  induced 
me  to  examine  myself  by  the  Scriptures  ;  and  like 
Manasseh,  1  have  often  prayed,  that  I  might  *  know 
that  the  Tior^  he  is  God;'  and  like  the  dying  thief,  1  have 
cried,  'Lord,  remember  me !"  She  paused.  "  You  fill 
me  with  co^nfort — I  said — at  this  bless«^d  experience  of 
Divine  mercy ;  and  have  you  then  tasted  that  the  Lord 
is  gracious'?'  Our  mother  replied — "I  cannot  say  ex- 
actly how  I  feel,  but  my  spirits  are  lightened  and  my 
dreadfully  distressing  fears  are  removed.  I  sed  in  the 
Divine  dealings  towards  me,  abounding  mercy.  I  re- 
trace my  evil  thoughts,  words  and  actions,  and  I  abom- 
inate them :  but  I  am  not  troubled  as  formerly  with 
the  sting  of  them  ;  and  I  trust  that  the  Lord  has  for- 
given the  iniquity  of  my  sin."  I  was  too  affected  to 
speak.  Therese  saw  my  emotion — "  What  do  I  not 
owe  to  you,  Louise — she  subjoined — as  the  instrument 
in  God's  hands  to  convert  a  sinner  from  the  error  of 
her  way ;  and  I  hope  you  have  saved  a  soul  from 
death  ?  I  cannot  speak  with  your  composure  and  cer- 
tainty ;  but  I  can  say  with  sincerity — *liord,  what  wait 
I  for,  my  hope  is  in  thee  V'  She  paused  as  if  wait- 
ing to  hear  me.  I  could  not  command  energy  to 
utter  a  word.  At  length,  she  added — "  I  think  I  cap 
fell  something  of  your  gladness,  when  you  can  feel 


•«*. 


* 


•ip4fip*> 


*••— «^-  "• 


t 


■:  C 


"'7 


\ 


n. 


200  ^ 

'-lit 
that  you  are  so  repaid  by  God  for  your  mother's  unna- 
tural barbarity ."  This  reference  changed  my  feelings, 
and  in  broken  sentences,  I  replied — '*  Say  nothing 
upon  that  subject.  So  far  as  T  am  concei  ned^  I  for^ve 
it  from  our  first  interview  here.  Diganu  will  forget  ir, 
%hen  he  hears  my  lale.  God,  I  trust,  has  compassion- 
ated you,  and  subdued  your  iniquities,  and  cast  all 
your  sins  into  the  depths  of  the  sea.  Let  us  not  there- 
fore raise  up  what  God  has  buried.  If  I  havc^  been  of 
any  service  to  you,  bless  God  for  his  wonderful  loving 
kindness,  who  makes  all  things  work  together  for  good 
to  them  that  love  him.'' 


That  evening  for  the  first  time,  Therese  prayed 
^,D,loud  ;  and  until  «he  was  finally  disabled,  our  joint 
cleyotic^n^  were  alternately  assumed  by  us.  It  was 
an  encouragmsihought  that  a  woman  so  degenerate 
should  ^le  elevated  by  the  Gospel ;  that  a  dreaded  per- 
secutor should  be  transformed  into  a  Christian  disciple; 
chat  a  loathsome  tempter  should  be  changed  into  an  en- 
deared friend  ;  and  that  the  relation  of  mother  and 
daughter  should  be  recognized  by  us.  It  was  the  tri- 
umph of  good  over  evil,  of  light  over  darkness,  and  of 
love  over  aversion,  which  Christianity  alone  can 
achieve.  From  that  period  she  evidently  grew  in 
grace  and  in  the  knowledge  of  our  !  <ord  and  Saviour, 
Jesus  Christ.  But  she  had  no  lofty  soarings ;  her 
mind  was  fastened  to  thetinchor  of  hope,  but  she  made 
no  higher  attainment.  She  never  spake  of  herself  but 
with  profound  humility.  Of  her  past  life  she  avowed 
her  disgust ;  of  her  actual  ex|>erience,  her  apprehensions 


.    1 


-*■  >iwiiifii"i  »'>-"»^       ■»^-~'A'     >■  >iii*h<i>Hwd>ft/i'jyy^'r^Hg.^  *'-"* '"-^ 


iv  w*  • '•Ttir -rr  r-*-" '^— y***' ■•"^ -■- ■ 


>.> 


st'e  uniia- 
y  feelingSi 
}j  nothing 
I,  I  forgave 
ill  forget  it, 
impassion- 
id  cast  all 
?  not  there- 
iv^  been  of 
Biful  loving 
her  for  good 

rese  prayed 
I,  our  joint 
IS.      It  was 
D  degenerate 
dreaded  per- 
Lian  disciple  '^ 
d  into  an  en- 
mother  and 
t  was  thetri- 
tness,  and  of 
alone  can 
ntly  grew  in 
and  Saviour, 
soarings;  her 
but  she  made 
of  herself  but 
e  she  avowed 
upprchensions 


201 

were  only  without  alarm  and '  terrifying  disquietude ; 
but  of  the  future,  it  was  merely  the  resolution  of  Job ; 
'though  he  slay  me,  yet  will  I  trust  in  him  ;'  and  of 
Esther — *■  I  will  go  in  unto  the  king,  and  if  I  perish » 
I  perish."  .      Jf 


«l; 


■Mi 


'  ■  T*he  day,  my  dear,  Diganu,  on  which  we  had  finally 
been  separated  at  Lorelte,  was  always  to  me  a  period 
of  peculiar  solemnity,  meditation  and  prayer.  As  I  be- 
came more  familiar  with  Therese,  I  resolved  to  remind 
her  of  the  tenth  return  of  the  season,  and  if  possible,' 
mutually  to  be  edified  by  the  remembrance.  Her  an- 
ticipation was  not  less  acute  than  my  own,  and  she  re- 
solved to  surprise  me.  It  was  a  lovely  morning,  and  our 
spirits  were  in  unison  with  the  cheerfulness  of  Spring. 
In  her  prayer,  she  impressively  noticed  it.  With  all 
solicitude  she  invoked  pardon  for  the  evil  doings  of  that 
day  and  for  the  Jesuit  criminal  instigator ;  and  for 
you  and  your  Louise  her  supplications  were  large  and 
fervent.  These  were  mingled  with  thanksgivings  for 
Divine  mercy  in  her  latter  experience  ;  and  an  unre- 
served "surrender  of  herself  to  the  Lord's  will ;  also 
imploring  that  she  might,  be  able  to  read  her  name  in 
the  book  of  life,  and  be  prepared  to  meet  her  God.  As 
she  had  thus  adverted  to  the  subject,  I  made  no  re- 
mark. In  the  afternoon,  Therese  proposed  a  walk  in 
the  garden.  It  was  the  first  time  that  she  had  been 
out  of  the  house  during  nearly  five  months.  Every 
thing  on  that  occasion  seemed  changed.  Therese's 
kindness  ;  the  conviction  of  her  maternal  relationship, 
and  of  her  Christian  character ;  and  the  consolations 

X7* 


* 


f? 


*^. 


•'*if- 


V- 


!'*»..  i.    -ftt--' 


. -*,.*i.Hii.v.jp*'<-«-~'':  ^.> 


.■*9t-- 


mmmmmmmmmm 


■MP 


Ij  = 


./■ 


i) 


of  jredeemiDg  mercy,  of  whicb  we  hoth  hoped  that  W0 
participated,  cheered  our  miade;  and  we  were  invigora* 
ted  by  our  little  exercise.     On  our  return  into  hei 
fDom  our  Mother  remarked — "  I  have  one  duty  yet  t9 
perform  to  you,  Louise,  for  the  sake  of  Diganu ;  and  as 
I  feel  benefited  by  oyr  little  walk,  as  the  time  is  con- 
genial, and  as  the  future  is  so  very  mutable  and  uncer- 
tain, I  have  been  revolving  the  propriety  of  communi- 
cating to  you  some  of  the  history  of  my  life  this  eve- 
ning.   I  think  I  am  more  capable  of  doing  it  now, 
than  at  any  prevbus  time,  since  we  have  resided  to< 
gether.     My  daughter,  my  child — it  was  the  first  time 
she  had  ever  used  the  words,  and  as  she  kissed  me* 
she  added — are  you  willing  to  hear  it  ?"    I  could  only 
return  her  salutation  and  reply  ;  the  endearing  epithet 
had  never  before  escaped  me — "  I  had  thought,  moth- 
er ! — O  Diganu,  that  you  had  been  with  us!-'-<o  have 
surprised  you  by  a  reference  to  this  day;  but  from  your 
morning's  prayer  I  discovered  that  you  also  recollect 
the  eventful  season." — Therese  answered — "  Ah  t  it 
is  impossible,  Louise,  to  conceive  what  pungency  of  an- 
guish I  have  suffered  for  the  guilt  of  this  never  to  be 
fivgotten  day ;  and  it  is  the  remarkable  change  that  I 
now  feel,  which  induced  me  to  make  the  proposition-." 
Cpon  that  remark  I  observed — "1  have  longed  for 
your  recital  and  dreaded  it,  with  very  conflicting  emo- 
tions ;  now,  I  am  very  anxious  to  know  the  events  of 
your  earthly  pilgrimage." 


-'  ^ 

■  :'■  ■>' 


^uAh-vm 


k^m 


;  '.  i 


■m^- 


'•"?s^iV'*^>Kt>**- 


ldiaiw0 
iDvigora- 
into  bei 
ity  yet  ta 
II  •  andsfl 
ne  is  con- 
ind  uncef- 
comnauni* 
e  this  eve- 
ig  it  now, 
tesided  Uh> 
le  first  time 
kissed  me* 
[could  only 
iring  epithet 
ugbt,  moth- 
IB  !—<o  have 
ut  from  your 
Jso  recollect 
d— "  Ah  I  it 
kgency  of  au- 
s  never  to  be 
:hange  that  I 
s  piopoeitioD:." 
/e  longed  for 
nflicting  emo- 
r  the  events  of 


M  n  ^dlOCl'  '  0!  'Sm.. 


HISTORY  OP  THERESE.        -<^ 


^ 


•*"rt-t 


j>\  M 


',«>•■ 


■'?  . 


,:X-.t 


(r-i 


.  V     Night  is  the  time  of  death ;      ' .  <        ^ 
When  all  around  is  p*  ace. 
Calmly  to  yield  the  weary  breath, 
From  sin  and  suffering  cease — 
Think  of  heaven's  bliss,  and  give  the  sign 
To  parting  friends  ;— such  death  be  mine  !-* 


Tberese  xhus  narrated  her  biography.— Father  or 
mother  I  never  knew ;  nor  am  I  aware  of  any  indivi* 
dual's  peculiar  kindness  towards  me.     My  earliest  re- 
collections  are  concerning  an  elderly  woman  who  stated 
to  me  this  circumstance.      '  I  was  frequently  employ* 
ed  about  the  Ursuline  Nunnery  of  Quebec,  in  menial 
offices — said  Josephine — and  on  one  occasion  a  child, 
which  appeared  to  be  about  four  days  old  was  deposit* 
ed  in  the  usual  box  at  the  entrance.  I  desired  to  adopt 
it,  to  which  the  Nuns  consented  ;  and  you,  Therese, 
are  my  nurseling.     That  name  was  pinned  to  your 
bosom.     This  is  all  that  I  know  of  your  origin.'     That 
woman  I  always  addressed  by  the  title  of  member.    Her 
appearance  was  repulsive.    She  was  short  and  meagre^ 
with  a  peculiarly  disagreeable  countenance;  but  she. 
was  always  very  affectionate  and  kind  to  me,  and  I 
have  often  regretted  that  I  was  taken  from  her.    I  went 
to  the  school  and  made  some  progress  in  learning. 
The  Nuns  would  have  me  to  reside  with  them  :  antf 


'4^ 


(I 


-■>— Ki^.>i-i>»HPM 


i>itii<)»)l.<iiT««|i»'*'ii— ■>%  ^»  m^^fm-n 


l\' 


204  ' 

{ Josephine  was  obliged  to  consent.  I  well  remember 
her  charging  me  never  to  become  a  Nun.  At  the  con- 
vent I  often  saw  her,  and  was  permitted  to  visit  her 
at  her  own  room.  She  always  repeated  her  injunction, 
that  when  I  became  my  own  mistress,  I  ought  not  to 
live  in  a  Nunnery.  I  still  have  a  very  distinct  impres- 
sion of  attending  her  when  sick.  Not  long  before  her 
death,  she  communicated  the  manner  in  which  I  had 
come  under  her  care  ;  informed  me  that  I  was  fourteen 
years  of  age ;  that  1  had  no  earthly  relative  whom 
she  could  ascertain  ;  and  repeated  her  strict  command, 
that  I  should  leave  the  Convent  as  soon  as  I  could.  I 
was  present  at  the  funeral  of  my  only  benefactress. 

A  strict  guard  was  kept  over  me,  no  doubt  by  the 
contrivance  of  the  Nun  who  was  my  mother,  and  who 
resided  in  the  Convent ;  but  which  of  them  had  borne 
tne  I  never  could  suspect ;  because  that  fact  I  only 
ascertained,  in  consequence  of  Diganu's  threatened 
judicial  investigation.  However,  I  soon  perceived,  that 
they  designed  to  entangle  me  to  take  the  vow.  My 
mind  was  resolutely  opposed  to  the  measure ;  for  my 
dispositions  were  totally  uncongenial  with  the  manners 
of  the  Convent;  and  I  secretly  determined  to  resist  every 
scheme  to  force  my  assent.  My  aversion  doubtless  was 
discovered  ;  either  by  their  unacountable  craftiness,  or 
more  probably  by  some  of  my  acknowledgments  at 
confession.  I  was  therefore  placed  in  Montreal  about 
a  year  after  the  death  of  Josephine.  There  I  first  at- 
tracted the  notice  of  Diganu's  -father.  Between  the 
Pi-esbytere  and  the  Nunneries,  was  an  underground 


i 


,»» 


M0' 


■1 


'■^N'fciWs*,'*!  t*nv-,.--,.i 


-T«r- 


'-*ra-;r/;-.;:T;*^,^^--«/;y£ii;4^«rrx^.tfVVVi''v"'-" 


*#*■! 


205 


:emember 
,t  the  con- 
visit  her 
njunction, 
ght  not  to 
ict  iinpres- 
before  hei 
tiich  I  had 
as  fourteen 
Live  whom 
command, 
I  could.    I 
efactreBB.         • 

mblby  the 
er,  and  who 
0  had  borne 
fact  I  only 
threatened 
rceivedj  that 
vow.    My 
ure ;  for  my 
the  manners 
0  resist  every 
loubtlesswas 
craftiness,  or 
edgments  at 
ontreal  about 
ere  I  first  at- 
Between  the 
underground 


communication ;  and  thus  the  selected  girls  wreve 
made  eye  witnesses  of  the  familiarities  between  the 
Jesuit  Priests  and  the  Nuns,  until  they  were  dulf 
trained  to  join  the  vile  association.  ;  -    ,:  •/ 

,  Having  been  initiated  into  their  customs  at  Montreal, 
1  was  tninsferred  to  Three  Rivers,  by  the  direction  of 
the  Priest  who  had  chosen  me  for  his  prey.  There  a 
similar  passage  existed  between  the  Jesuit  Monas- 
tery and  the  Convent ;  aud  every  artifice  was  en- 
acted to  corrupt  my  principles.  The  object  was  not  at- 
tained ;  but  it  was  doubtless  perceived  thul  I  had  been 
infected  by  the  contagion  ;  and  1  was  then  removed  to 
the  General  Hospital  of  Quebec,  l^hat  Institution  had 
obtained  a  highly  dishonorable  charm- ter,  even  from 
those  who  knew  nothing  of  ( 'hristian  morals.  The  Re- 
ligieuaes  mixed  with  promiscuous  society  and  openly 
formed  tender  attachments.  The  Jesuits  consequently, 
were  in  a  fury.  Th«'  Priests  disliked  thai  the  military 
oflScers  and  others  should  intrude  into  their  domain  ; 
and  they  dreaded  that  the  Nuns  should  divulge  to 
their  paramours  the  secret  proceedings  of  the  Jesuits 
in  the  Convents.  It  is  most  probable,  from  notori- 
ous facts,  that  some  of  the  Nuns  did  publish  those 
circumstances  '  hich  afterwards  disgraced  that  pesti- 
lential order.  Exterior  decorum  among  the  Nuns  was 
eventually  coerced  by  the  government  ;  but  the  interior 
continued  to  be  a  scene  of  flagrant  depravity.  There 
I  drank  of  the  intoxicating  cup  ;  and  the  familiarities 
of  the  Priest  who  often  visited  me,  although  gilded  over 
by  the  name  of  fatherly  tenderness  to  a  spiritual  child 


■;>i>.^,. 


ytfh 


rsf" 


ti^mtrntrnt^^nnmitv^^ 


•■-I*'"^* 


11  fjl     I 


^    ;♦■ 


i 


■fr 


k 


y-^ 


206 

^liomhe  had  long  watched,  aided  his  design ;  and  when 
be  deemed  proper,  I  was  appointed  to  reside  at  Point 
aux  Trembles,  l^hat  was  the  period  of  my  intercourse 
with  Marguerite.  The  Jesuit  often  talked  with  me  re- 
specting my  future  views,  pretended  to  illustrate  my 
childish  npininnn,  discovered  all  my  contemptible  su* 
perstitiou^  folly ;  encouraged  all  the  notions  which  I  had 
imbibed  of  priestly  infuUibility,  shewed  the  importance 
of  an  unreserved  exposure  of  all  my  thoughts,  feelings, 
and  desire;)  to  him,  with  pretended  modest  gravity 
propounded  the  most  obscene  and  revolting  questions; 
and  under  the  pretence  of  cautioning  me  against  sin, 
taught  me  the  most  loathsome  sensuality,  and  unfolded 
the  very  inmost  recesses  of  all  ungodliness,  until  hav- 
ing moulded  me  in  unprincipled  views  and  tieelings  to 
his  design,  he  compl«;t<d  it  in  the  confessional.  I  was 
then  totally  in  his  power,  and  was  removed  to  his 
parish,  where  Digami  was  born.  He  was  taken  from 
me  almost  immediately,  and  I  saw  him  no  more  until 
he  was  sent  to  be  instructed  with  Chretien  at  Quebec. 

For  some  cause  unknown  to  me,  the  Priest  left  his 
parish  f  )r  several  weeks,  and  during  his  absence,  anoth- 
er Jesuit,  said  Mass  for  him.  He  visited  me,  and  you, 
Louise,  are  his  Haughter.  Thus  debased,  and  by  the 
instructions  of  those  two  Priests,  lost  to  all  correct  fe- 
male sensibility  and  moral  decorum,  I  became  exactly 
what  they  wished.  Afterwards  they  forced  me,  under 
the  pretext  of  secrecy,  to  take  the  veil ;  and  the  years  re- 
volved amid  my  increasing  love  and  practice  of  iniquity. 
1  possessed  not  the  smallest  particle  of  afTection  for  you ; 


t.3 


i;     . ' 


I    ; 


nd  wbett 
,  at  Poiot 
itercourse 
ilh  me  rc- 
straie  my 
iplible  su- 
hichlhad 
niportance 
L8,  feelings, 
jst  gravity 
questions ; 
igainst  sin, 
ml  unfolded 
,  until  hav- 
lI  feelings  to 
nal.     1  was 
loved  to  his 
.  taken  from 
lo  more  until 
1  at  Quebec. 

>riest  left  his 
sence,  anoth- 
lie,  and  you, 
I,  and  by  the 
all  correct  fe- 
icame  exactly 
;ed  me,  under 
d  the  years  re 
ice  of  iniquity- 
ection  for  you ; 


■^'.     J- 


207 


or  rftther  yoo  were  my  aversion ;  for  it  was  in  coiTse 
quence  of  your  birth,  that  I  had  been  coerced  to  adopt 
the  monastic  lite.     Diganu  I  cared  for,  because  he  was 
a  child  in  some  degree  of  affection,  for  his  father  had 
attracted  my  fondness ;  but  for  your  father,  1  never 
felt  the  least  attachment,  or  respect;  and  my  comfort, 
equally  with  his  safety,  was  in  danger  from  the  two 
Jesuits.     I  thought  that  they  never  would  be  pacified, 
until  they  had  murdered  l)oth  of  you.     It  was  finally 
agreed,  that  Diganu  should  be  under  your  father's  in- 
spection, and  that  you  should  be  controled,  by  the  other 
Priest.     All .  your  sufferings  have  been  the  result  of 
this  mischievous  compact.    I  always  wished  to  befriend 
your  brother ;  and  his  father  consented,  provided  that 
he  might  have  the  sway  over  you.     Had  I  known  the 
feelings  of  a  woman,  much  more  the  tenderness  of  a 
mother^  I  should  have  opposed  that  monster  of  iniquity  ; 
but  all  within  me  was  blunted  or  perverted,  and  I  rea- 
Kzed  no  more  concern  at  sacrificing  my  child  than  any 
other  girl ;  or  rather,  I  was  taught  that  Diganu's  pros- 
perity depended  upon  it,  and  the  base  agreement  was 
made."    "I  here  interposed — remarked  Louise,  and 
asked — was  my  father  privy  to  this  extraordinary  de- 
sign?"   Therese  answered — "  No,  he  never  saw  you, 
after  you  were  removed  from  me,  when  a  few  days  old, 
until  he  recognized  the  cross  in  the  Church  at  Lorette. 
Indeed,  he  never  displayed  the  smallest  concern  about 
you.     He  complied  with  his  engagement  respecting 
Diganu.  merely  as  a  matter  of  honor  between  Priests ; 
but  he  was  not  in  the  least  interested  in  your  or  my 

WVUUlQ*    ,_ii  «■  ■.♦lit.. if     i";         ;».i:ii'..    ..•       ,.,     .*;  i.-  .-,  ,  .'.4  «♦   »,«u^i    £  *^ 


M  m  vAiOvi^-  j: 


,      ,.  !k>.,fn}k 


i|.-«  *  '  « 


) 


*t 


,  •■*•=■ 


>  ■  :?: 


'A 


>  >  ■* 


1 


y 


908 

.'After  you  approached  to  maturity,  the  plan  waa  laid 
ft»r  your  entanglement,  f  was  early  apprised  that  you 
manifested  a  rather  intractahle  and  modest  temper,  and 
that  you  would  not  easily  be  enticed  by  any  artifloeeto 
submit  to  the  course  delineated  for  you.  The  plot 
therefore  wan  contrived  gradually  to  entrap  you  into 
bis  snare.  I  was  also  told,  that  it  was  impoesible  to 
attract  your  notice  to  the  usual  occurrences  of  the  Con* 
vent.  By  my  base  advice,  you  were  sent  to  Point  aux 
Trembles ;  but  it  was  a  providential  journey,  because 
there  you  stiw  JVEarguerite,  and  Ood  in  mercy  permitted 
you,  through  her  instrumentality,  to  acquire  that  know- 
ledge and  inflexibilify  which  enabled  you  to  oTercome 
•11  the  Priest's  machinations."  Here  I  interrupted  The* 
rese  by  remaking — "  I  cannot  conceive,  Therese,  how 
you  could  post^ibly  have  engaged  in  that  most  iniqui* 
tous  project.  There  is  something  so  unnatural  and  so 
attrocioas,that  I  am  amazed  when  the  Jesuit  propound, 
ed  that  wickedness  to  you.  your  feelings  as  a  woman 
did  not  revolt  from  the  proposal  to  pix)6titute  your  vir- 
gin daughter  to  the  father  of  your  son  ?"  She  displayed 
unutterable  emotion  as  she  replied — "  Ah !  Louise,  you 
understand  not  the  wickedness  of  Jesuit  seminaries 
and  Convents.  By  their  regulations,  all  earthly  relation- 
ships terminate  when  the  boy  receives  the  tonsure,  or 
the  girl  takes  the  veil.  Father  and  mother,  brother 
and  sister,  even  son  and  daughter  to  them  are  un* 
meaning  appellatives,  and  all  mankind  are  equally 
alienated.  Hence,  parricide  and  incest,  in  their  jtidg- 
BQent,  are  crimes  which  they  cannot  commit.  A  Pre* 
fte  and  a  Religieuse  are  equdly  destitute  of  all  natural 


'4 


''''■a 


,•«■'- 

m^^,:. 


i'^mdni  ■ 


I  • 


4'  i 


209 


was  laid 

Th«  ptot 
I  you  into 
possible  to 
[)f  the  C5on« 
)  Point  ftuz 
ly,  because 
y  permitted 
thatknow- 
lo  oteTcome 
rupted  The- 
herese,  ho^ 
nost  iniqul- 
lural  and  so 
lit  propound, 
eu9  a  woman 
He  your  vir- 
Jhe  displayed 

Louise,  you 
it  seminariew 
rthly  relation- 
le  tonsure,  or 
Aher,  brother 
lem  are  un» 

are  equally 

in  their  judg- 

iroit.    A  Pw 
ofaUnatund 


aensibility.  Most  of  them  like  mycelf  have  ntfver  Mt 
the  ordinary  experience  of  domestic  affection.  They 
are  the  offspring  of  profligacy ;  and  by  their  unknowii 
licentious  parents,  abandoned  in  infancy  to  the  care  of 
others,  and  only  watched  that  they  may  be  nurtur- 
ed to  think  and  feel  and  act  like  the  Priests  and  Nuns 
from  whom  they  derived  their  existence.  "What  love 
can  a  woman  have  for  a  child  who  is  taken  from  her 
probably  without  her  handling,  or  even  beholding  it ; 
whom  she  never  nursed,  and  whose  sex  she  is  not  per* 
mitted  to  know;  and  in  multitudes  of  instances  whether 
allowed  to  live  or  sufTucaled  at  its  birth,  she  can  never 
ascertain?  What  aflfection  can  a  Priest  have  for  a  child, 
ifthe  relationship  were  ascertained,  who  must  be  his 
disgrace  and  ruin  ?  It  is  certain  that  the  Jesuits  not 
only  kill  their  children  to  hide  their  corruption,  but  also 
the  mothers  of  their  oflspring,  rather  than  (heir  pre- 
tended celil)acy  shall  be  discredited.  What  civil  law 
can  punish  a  Priest  and  Nun  thus  guilty?  They  purloin 
and  destroy  every  Bible  with  impunity.  They  rob 
their  poor  disciples  under  every  possible  pretext .  They 
teach,  disseminate  and  practice  all  kindsof  the  vilest 
immorality,  and  who  dare  to  resist  them  ?" 

"  I  have  often  thought  to  ask  you,  Theresc — I  re- 
marked— what  account  can  be  given  of  all  the  itifants 
who  are  left  in  the  cradles  at  the  Nunneries?  I  have 
frequently  regretted,  that  Marguerite  did  not  assist  nie 
with  her  knowledge  on  this  subject."  Therese  lephed 
— "  That  is  a  very  mysterious  concern.  How  that  busi- 
ness is  managed,  I  never  could  exactly  discover.     The  ^ 

18 


■V 


\ 


~  ''f^^f^f 


mmm 


•PPMI 


^\Q 


ft;- 


(, 


AMml)#r  Qf  obildren  thus  cust  off  by  their  uno^tuml  pa* 
leota  is  aatoBishing ;  yet  no  inquiry  is  ever  made  fot 
Ihem,  after  they  have  been  placed  in  a  convent  That 
|0air  can  only  be  understood  by  the  Nun  in  atten- 
dance) and  the  ^perieure  and  the  Chaplain.  1  was 
sever  intrusted  with  the  office  of  door-keeper.  All  I 
bnow  is,  that  many  more  are  deposited  than  ever  go 
out ;  but  how  the  accdUnt  is  balanced^  it  is  beyond 
my  ingenuity,  to  unravel."  I  replied — "  During  my 
abode  in  one  of  the  Convents,  I  am  convinced,  that  one 
hundred  children  were  stated  to  have  been  left  within 
the  year  to  the  care  of  the  Religieuses;  although  T 
never  saw  one  of  them."  Therese  answered — "  It  is 
now  a  wonder  to  me;  but  then  I  thought  nothing  of  it. 
The  shocking  subject  only  constituted  matter  for  a 
^ke  among  the  Nuns;  yet  with  all  f.heir  impudence,  the 
Pretres  would  never  intrust  us  with  the  knowledge  of 
aur  children's  fate  ;  had  it  not  been  divulged  in  con- 
sequence of  your  birth,  I  should  have  remained  totally 
ignorant  of  Diganu."  I  inquired — "  Do  describe  to 
me  the  character  of  those  two  Priests  as  you  now  judga 
them  ?  Are  they  living  ?"  Our  mother  answered — 
"Your  Father,  Louise — her  countenance,  of  which 
she  was  probably  not  conscious,  bespoke  strong  aver- 
sion— was  a  cold-hearted,  selfish  villain,  and  an  adept 
in  all  wickedness.  He  regularly  mumbled  over  his 
masses,  exacted  his  various  fees  and  claims,  indulged 
his  unholy  appetites  as  he  pleased,  and  possessed  not 
the  smallest  attachment  to  any  thing  in  creation,  ex- 
cept the  eraft  by  which  he  had  his  gain.  As  he  lived 
QBbeloved,  so  he  died  near  two  years  aga  unlamented," 


i*m 


ttaml  pa- 
made  for 
t    That 
in  atfceii- 
\.    Iwas 
er.    All! 
i  ever  go 
B  beyond 
uring  my 
1,  that  one 
jft  Tvithin 
Ithough  If 

ed— "  It  is 
(thing  of  it. 
itter  for  a 
idence,  the 
owledge  of 
red  in  con- 
ined  totally 
describe  to 
1  now  judge 
inswered — 
I,  of  whieh 
strong  aver- 
nd  an  adept 
led  over  his 
as,  indulged 
lossessed  not 
creation,  cx- 
As  he  lived 
mlamented.*' 


i'  -1 


1  hastily  observed^*'  Dead !  do  you  say  ?  d4»atf  in  HH 
gins  ?"  TberMe  eontintted— **  He  paeeed  thniagh  all 
die  foMiB  and  ceremoniee^  was  absolved,  anointed| 
chattled  cfVer,  eulogized  in  the  funeral  oration,  prais^  , 
ed  in  the  newspaper,  has  a  fine  epitaph  inscribed  Otk 
his  tombstone,  and  a  monument  in  the  church ;  and 
is  gone  to  his  fathers,  just  as  they  preceded  him,  and 
as  the  surviving  ungodly  Priests  are  successively  follow- 
ing him."   I  briefly  inquired — "  And  Diganu's  fathei  ?" 

"  He  is  alive — said  your  Mother— a  shrewd  artfi:^ 
and  complete  Jesuit ;  with  all  the  principles  of  a  re^ 
morseless,  impeniient  sinner,  and  with  a  deceitfulnesl^ 
which  no  ingenuity  can  explore  or  circumvent.  Hiil 
progress  has  constantly  been  onward  to  condemnation. 
The  only  thins^  which  has  any  appearance  of  good 
that  he  ever  performed  has  been  his  support  of  Diganu  y 
but  that  was  merely  to  gratify  his  stronger  passion. 
His  private  history  would  unfold  a  wondrous  tale.  I 
have  not  seen  him  during  the  last  three  years.  When 
I  began  to  realize  debility,  1  was  deserted  ;  and  as  my 
eyes  were  opened  to  perceive  the  evil  of  their  doingVi 
1  loathed  the  very  sight  of  all  the  Pretres.  This  tem« 
per  nmduceil  disputation.  They  denounced  me  as  a 
heretic^  and  di^^carded  me  ;  but  as  the  Jesuit  then 
divulged  hk  opinions  and  doings,  he  appeared  to  itie  fl 
most  irreligious  and  hardened  transgressor.  Tht 
misery  which  he  has  entailed  apon  his  female  victitnl 
to  hint  was  an  object  of  ridicule,  and  as  ti6  his  chiid« 
fen,  with  the  exception  of  Diganu,  no  peiteti  can  gtv^ 
any  accoom  of  them.    In  his  first  rage^  after  the  biW* 


^•^'' 


^i 


^app"v; 


■■';»,-iw«!JS 


ry.^/:.":      V 


'A'\i 


\ 


SI12  ,". 

suhs  were  directed  to  be  commenced,  I  dreaded  from 
^  menaces,  that  Diganu  and  Chretien  would  both 
have  been  sacrificed  !"  I  remarked — '*  It  v/as  always 
a  subject  of  interest  to  us  which  we  could  never 
unfold,  how  the  discovery  was  made  that  1  was  resi* 
ding  with  Diganu."  ,.  < 

"  I  will  explain  that  circumstance — replied  Therese. 
On  the  night  after  your  escape,  one  ot  the  Priest's  pa- 
rishioners arrived  in  the  city,  and  uifornied  him  of  the 
fire.  He  instantly  acquainted  me  with  the  vexatious 
occurrence.  For  the  injury  to  his  turnituie  aitd  books 
he  cared  not;  his  anxiety  was  concerning  your  secu- 
rity :  respecting  which  he  dared  not  to  inquire.  On 
the  next  morning  he  hurried  to  his  residence,  and  col- 
lected  all  the  information  which  he  could  obtain  ;  but 
he  could  discover  no  trace  either  of  you  or  of  his  mo- 
ney. He  did  not  suppose  that  you  had  taken  it-  Af- 
ter along  and  fruitless  research,  it  was  concluded,  that 
the  fire  had  originated  in  Guise's  imprudence ;  that 
you  had  escaped  unobserved  in  the  confusion ;  and 
that  some  persons  had  obtained  possesion  of  the  gold 
and  silver,  who  carefully  secreted  the  treasure ''  I 
again  asked — "  Did  the  Pretre  continue  his  inquiries, 
and  thus  make  the  discovery  ?  or  by  what  means  was 
my  actual  existence  and  place  of  abode  at  last  ascertain- 
ed?" Therese  tremulously  answered — "I  always  endea- 
vored to  persuade  him  that  you  were  dead  ;  and  to  my 
shame,  with  regret  I  confess,  that  I  delighted  in  the 
thought  that  you  had  perished.  I  argued  that  it  was 
Utterly  impossible  you  could  survive  exposure  in  the 


■  (•'*^>t™t^'J'fc'B^ 


rf;»r 


> 


di3 


* 


f3 


night'  in  the  open  air,  and  that  it  was  most  prolMbte 
you  had  been  drowned,  as  you  could  not  know  an^ 
route  from  that  parish.  He  resisted  those  ideas,  and 
maintained  that  you  were  too  squeamish  to  die  of  your 
own  accord :  nevertheless,  he  was  perplexed.  Guise 
declared,  that  as  soon  as  they  saw  the  fire,  the  people  ait 
the  dance  started  with  all  rapidity;  that  when  she 
ai rived,  the  flames  had  made  but  little  progress;  that 
the  persons  who  broke  open  the  doors  of  the  house 
mentioned  nothing,  except  that  the  fire  seemed  to  have 
begun  with  the  t^tove  pipe,  and  that  she  tried  to  find 
Louise  in  vain.  Every  investigation  was  made,  but 
no  information  was  elicited  ;  and  the  men  were  unani- 
mous, that  all  the  doors  were  forcibly  entered,  and  that 
except  the  fire,  every  thing  in  the  house  was  just  as  if 
the  Pretre  had  been  at  home.  For  once  the  Jesuit  was 
bafiled,  and  might  have  continued  so  until  the  end,  had 
he  not  practised  one  of  his  wiles.  He  engaged  ail  the 
Priests  to  make  his  money  the  subject  of  search  at  con- 
fession ;  and  finally  authorized  them  to  offer  the  fuH 
possession  of  the  whole  property  taken  from  him,  and 
a  perfect  release  from  the  civil  law,  with  the  absolution 
of  the  Church,  to  all  persons  who  would  give  any  in- 
fermation  respecting  the  origin  of  the  fire.  Had' 
Biganu  or  Chretien  associated  with  the  Priests,  or  gone 
to  confession  as  before,'  they  would  have  henrd  of  it ; 
although  neither  of  them  were  suspected  as  being  ac*- 
qtiainted  with  any  of  the  circumstances  ;  for  the  Pretre 
had  seen  Dignnu  on  the  morning  of  the  day  itrheil- 
Ihey  rescued  you.     Several  months  had  dlapsed  afte^ 

fht  Jesait's  crafty  contrivance  veas  put  in  operaUon^^ 

18* 


\a 


u 


«-•.  L 


i:v  n  *  .»*»f ''-  *—  ■t»'**^*-i  ft^^i'  ■^^*'' 


314 


wboo  he  visited  me,  and  stated,  that  he  had  received  an 
anonymous  account  of  Louise's  flight.  *  Is  she  alive  or 
dead?'  was  my  inquiry.  '  1  cannot  tell — he  answered — 
read  this  letter :  1  will  see  you  to-morrow,  then  we  wiU 
decide  what  shall  be  done.  The  hand-writing  was 
obviously  disguised ;  although  I  am  now  convinced^ 
that  the  letter  was  sent  by  one  of  your  deliverers.  It 
was  doubtless  written  only  to  upbraid  and  tantalize  the 
Pretre."  I  hastily  asked  our  mother  i  his  question — 
*'  Before  we  read  that  letter — for  she  had  safely  preser* 
ved  it — do  tell  mo,  Thereae ;  were  you  my  companion 
to  the  Priest's  house,  as  well  as  to  Jacques  Carlier  ? 
for  I  could  never  satisfy  my  mind  upon  that  subject  V* 
Therese  replied — "  O  !  horrible  recollection  ;  yes  it  was 
I  who  thus  betrayed  my  own  innocent  lamb  to  that  ta> 
vening  wolf."  I  further  inquired — "  How  is  it  possi- 
ble you  could  so  disguise  yourself,  thai  I  should  not  be 
able  to  recognize  either  your  personal  appearance  or 
your  voice  V*  With  the  deepest  emotion,  Therese  an- 
swered— "  Ah  !  my  dear  Louise  ;  you  know  nothing, 
and  well  it  is  thi\t  you  are  ignorant  of  these  devices.  I 
shall  not  relate  a  Jesuit's  and  a  Nun's  tricks  :  but  every 
species  of  concealment  they  can  and  do  assume  to 
execute  their  mischievous  purposes.  When  I  have 
been  alone,  tortured  with  bodily  pain,  dbmayed  with 
inexpressible  anguish,  and  all  my  sins  have  stared  me 
in  the  face  in  their  aggravated  criminality,  my  two 
journies  with  you,  in  connection  with  the  dreadful  ca- 
tastrophe at  Lorette,  have  always  appeared  to  include 
the  utmost  barbarity  and  wickedness,  which  human 
depravity  can  ponibly  combine.    Comfiuri  me  onoft 


■' » 


J 


# 


^  ■ 


" .  .V*f  fH  Vr  i^.tMi^'W.'l''^  - 


• — 'ifiaBteF"" 


tA<«(i  ■i-i^Vm>..M/lt 


i  / 


-rr-- 


:>-» 


•   215 

more,  Louise,  with  the  assurance  of  your  pardon!'* 
She  paused  and  tr^'nlbled.     "  I  have  already  often  as- 
sured  you,  my  dear  mother — was  my  reply — that  I 
have  heartily  forgiven  all  your  offences  against  nie  y 
and  I  trust  that  the  God  of  mercy  has  also  blotted' 
them  OU4  of  the  book  of  his  remembrance,  and  granted 
you  the  remission  of  sin.     Whatever  I  may  judge  of 
the  transgression,  and  of  your  instigator,  I  think,  from 
your  detail,  that  your  condition  at  that  period  was  not 
lesH  pitiable  than  odious."     She  pathetically  answer- 
ed— "  Blessed  be  God  !    that  I  can  now  venture  to  re- 
view those  terrific,  scenes  without  that  harrowing  tor- 
ment which  formerly  accompanied  the  remembrance : 
and  although  I  abhor  myself  and  my  wa>s,  yei  1  cao 
exerciije  an  humble  trust  in  the  efficacy  of  the  Redeem* 
er's  pardoning  grace,  and  I  can   feebly  hope  that  I 
have  experienced  the  application  of  the  blood  of  Christ 
which  cleanseth  from  all  sin  '*  I  subjoined — "1  am  con- 
vinced that  it  is  this  confidence  on  your  behalf  which 
has  enabled  me  to  hear  your  narrative  with  so  little  ^ 
perturbation ;  that  it  is  not  only  exemption  from  dan- 
ger and  gratitude  for  deliverance,  but  also  the  consola- 
tion of  believing  that  your  transgression  is  forgiven, 
and  that  your  sin  is  covered.     So  that,  however  repul  . 
eive  it  is  to  survey  past  deformity,  the  sting  of  sin  ir 
extracted ;  and  aduitional  penitence,  humility,  faith 
and  devotion  are  enkindled  by  the  painful  conterapla*/ 
lions."    The  weeping  Therese  replied — "  I  think  I  have  > 
found  this  effect  latterly  produced  in  my  own  mind. 
On  former  occasions,  when  I  meditated  upon  the  counei 
%bich  I  have  parsuedil  was  overwhelmed  with  agony  i 


i  1 


\  ■ 


..^-WAiJMIBr-.-^' 


316  li 

fitit  it  was  not  united  with  melting.  My  feelings  wer« 
the  disUke  and  unsubdued  will  of  the  guilty  delinqueBt, 
not  the  tender-hearted  and  sorrowful  aversion  ^f  the 
lepenting  sinner.  I  was  humbled  for  my  wretched- 
ness, not  for  ray  transgressions.  I  believed,  but  it  was 
the  agonizing  convictions  of  coerced  alarm,  not  the 
lowly  apprehensions  of  a  filial  trust ;  and  1  cried,  but 
it  was  a  desire  to  escape  from  present  pain  and  anticipa* 
ted  wo  ]  not  the  prayer  for  wisdom,  holiness,  resigna- 
tion,  and  <  'hristian  peace."  I  answered — "  It  is  very 
consolatory  to  nie,  Tlierese,  to  witness  this  gracioue 
transformation  in  your  feelings  and  views  of  yourself 
and  of  I  )ivine  trulii."  Therese  tenderly  added — "  By 
the  Divine  blessing,  Louise,  1  owe  to  you  all  that  I 
savingly  Isnuw,  experience,  and  hope ;  and  can  only 
pray  that  you  may  be  abundantly  rewarded  for  your 
work  of  faith  and  labor  ol  love,  according  to  the  Re* 
deemer's  promise !"  My  reply  was — •."  Let  me  read  the 
letter.  I  am  anxious  to  understand  the  mysterious 
occurrence  which  ferreted  me  out  of  my  seclusion." 


'^. 


To  Mr.  1),  Pretre. 

"You  are  taking  much  trouble  to  find  out  the  circum* 
stances  connected  with  the  fire  in  your  house;  and 
have  offered  that  the  money  which  you  say  was  lost 
in  your  house  may  be  retained  by  any  person  who  se- 
•oreted  it,  provided  only  you  can  be  fully  infOTmed  con» 
earning  that  event.  But  why  did  you  never  inquire 
'After  the  girl  yon  had  imprisoned  there  ?  Now  if  ever 
l^hear  of  any  more  search  being  made  after  the  caeh>  t 
^itt  publish  the  story  about  Louise."  °  -  --^'^^ 


V 


-;f' 


*•• 


"''*^"'*.:t-  ^■»-*- 


*.-:r..::-:.JS!cr.r-?!v^-,v-^ 


■■■  (> 


ngswert 

linqueat, 

Q  ^f  the 

f  retched- 

lut  k  was 

not  the 

ried,  but 

aDticipa* 

resigna- 

It  is  very 

graciouB 

yourself 

id—"  By 

lU  that  I 

:an  only 

for  your 

the  Re* 

e  read  the 

lysteriouc 

Bion." 


e  cu'cum* 
ase ;  and 
was  lost 
n  whose- 
■med  con- 
inquire  ^ 
w  if  ever 
[le  cash)  1 


::M 


2ir 

"What  did  the  Priest  say  to  that  threat  ?— I  askei 
—did  he  manifest  no  uneasiness  at  the  proposed  dis- 
closure ?"  Therese  replied—"  Not  at  ail ;  the  Jesuit 
only  smiled  with  contempt.  *  Silly  fool ! — said  the 
Pretre — his  talc  would  necessarily  unfold  the  robbery ; 
and  as  he  would  be  hanged,  no  person  would  believe 
one  syllable  which  he  uttered.  Besides,  the  men  who 
first  opened  the  doors,  would  testify  that  no  person  was 
in  the  house,  and  Guise  will  swear  to  any  thing,  which 
she  is  taught.'  But  I  answered — *  Suppose  more  than 
•ne  person  should  have  been  concerned  in  the  affair, 
how  will  that  affect  the  point  ?  The  Priest  remarked, 
*  They  dare  not  tell  the  story  for  their  own  sakes  ;  yet 
1  should  rejoice  to  discover  this  insolent  fellow.'  But 
goon."  I  continued  to  read  the  letter.  "  As  you  seem 
so  very  desirous  to  learn  something  of  the  matter  ;  I 
will  tell  you  what  I  have  heard  about  it,  some  time  ago^ 
in  Montreal.  The  man  who  related  the  circumstance, 
mentioned  neither  time,  nor  names,  nor  place  ;  but 
from  the  questions  which  have  been  asked  by  the  Cure 
•four  parish,  it  must  be  the  same  affair,  and  well  may 
you  be  willing  to  give  up  the  hush  money.  All  that 
rejoices  me  is  that  the  good  girl  escaped  from  your 

brutal  clutches." 

r, 

A  smile  passed  over  my  countenance,  and  I  iaquired 
of  Therese — "Howdid  the  Pretre  receive  thatsarcasm  ?" 
Oirf  mother  replied — "  He  swore  most  furiously ;  and 
declared,  that  he  would  find  out  whether  you  were  dead 
or  alive.  1  endeavofed  in  v&in  to  turn  away  his  atten-' 
tion  from  the  unholy  and  as  I  thought  fruitless  search. 


% 


j^^J^pJ;-;^  ;^trRfint  yjv.)  •*■■■  -  •-?.*' 


;j»5J3P?!l»>5^-j--'   ■.;■   1 


.i**liBi*a 


-  xe*-«.»*M*.i**KRAi<*h<  '  . 


••I  I  m« 


i 


liii. 


./■ 


I-,  "■'■ 


1 


i 


*^. 


r    ~ 

i 


But  Providence  in  a  most  mysterious  manner,  hae  or- 
dered all  our  affairs  for  the  best." 

I  proceeded  in  my  perusal.  "  You  will  never  know 
who  were  the  chief  actors  in  that  affair ;  but  three 
young  men  travelling  stopped  at  your  parish  chuich 
during  mass.  Your  journey  toCluebec  was  talked  of^ 
and  the  dance  at  night.  It  was  also  mentioned  that 
an  old  jilt,  who  was  left  in  charge  of  your  house  would 
be  at  the  frolic ;  and  as  the  Prelres  always  have  a  plenty 
of  money  in  their  possession.  The  travellers  arranged 
their  plan,  watched  the  woman's  departure,  and  them- 
selves at  a  late  hour  left  the  habitant's  house  at  which 
they  had  been  staying,  under  the  pretext  of  joining  the 
dance  ;  where,  however,  thty  remained  but  a  shofi 
time.  At  three  o'clock  they  left  the  frolic  unobserved. 
Having  entered  your  house,  they  were  frightened  a( 
the  sight,  as  they  thought,  of  the  old  woman,  whom 
they  had  left  at  the  dance  asleep  !  but  they  instantly 
discovered  that  it  was  a  young  female  preparing  to  es- 
cape from  the  window.  She  made  known  her  wretch- 
ed situation  ;  and  so  to  spoil  such  a  coquin's  tricks,  the 
strangers  seized  your  money,  invited  Louise  to  accom- 
pany them,  set  fire  to  the  house,  gave  the  alarm,  and 
unperceived  by  any  person  drove  away,  amid  the  shouts 
and  uproar  of  the  party  hutrying  from  the  dance. 
They  left  the  girl  the  next  evening,  and  can  never  hear 
of  her  since  ;  so  that  you  have  Louise's  death  to  nn- 
swer  for  ;  and  remember,  some  more  of  Us  are  ready  to 
take  a  peep  into  your  upper  aparlnientS)  and  look  at 
your  secret  proceedings."    „    i^,  vi^piiio*: 


■4/' 


I  t 


■M 


219 


i 


^hwor- 


rer  know 

)Ut  three 

^1  chuich 

talked  of; 

oned  that 

,u8e  would 

ve  a  plenty 

rearranged 

,andthem- 

,e  at  which 
joining  the 
but  a  short 

I  unobserved. 

rightened  al 

man,  whom 

ley  instantly 
paring  toes- 

IV  her  wretch- 

Ill's  tricks,  the 
lise  to  accoin- 
le  alarm,  and 
mid  the  shouts 
m  the  dunce, 
can  never  heal 
9  death  to  an- 
us are  ready  to 
ts,  and  look  at 


»  «  •* 


"  How  did  the  Pretre  like  this  menace  ?"  I  asked. 
Therse  answered — "  He  was  so  intimidated,  that  for  a 
long  time  he  was  never  known  to  be  absent  at  night, 
unless  he  could  engage  some  of  his  parishioners  to  re- 
main as  a  guard."  I  again  inquired — "How  did  he 
act  upon  this  information  V*  Therese  informed  me  in 
reply — "  Immediately  after  the  reception  of  this  letter, 
the  Jesuit  started  all  his  confreres  upon  the  Rcent,  for  they 
are  a  confederated  pack  ;  but  the  pursuit  was  unavail- 
ing. Every  hope  of  attaining  any  knowledge  of  you 
was  nearly  abandoned,  when  the  cure  of  Lorette  stated, 
that  he  had  heard  some  intelligence  of  a  strange  girl, 
who  was  sick  at  that  village,  about  the  very  time  of 
the  fire.  The  stupid  squaws  however  had  either  forgot- 
ten or  could  give  no  precise  account  of  the  fact.  With 
great  difficulty,  the  Surgeon  was  finally  identified. 
By  a  large  bribe,  he  was  induced  to  unite  in  the  search. 
When  it  was  ascertained  that  you  had  clandestinely  left 
your  lodgings,  I  desired  that  all  further  inquiries  should 
terminate,  as  it  would  only  involve  Diganu  and  Chretien 
in  perplexity."  I  asked — "  Why  was  your  opinion  not 
adopted?"  Therese  remarked — "  You  cannot  form  any 
idea  of  the  craftiness  and  pertinacity  of  a  Jesuit  Priest  in 
persevering  to  fulfil  that  which  he  has  once  undertak- 
en. The  Pretre  cursed  most  dreadfully,  and  declared 
that  nothing  should  satisfy  him  until  he  had  obtained 
undeniable  evidence  of  your  death  ;  and  that  he  would 
obtain  possession  of  you  if  you  could  be  found  :  and  be 
remarked  with  an  expressive  tone  and  look,  'you  know, 
Therese,  wecannot  be  deceived.'"  I  interposed — "  That 
reminds  me  of  a  query  which  I  have  often  wished  to 


SI 


I 


k-^': 


i 


1-. 


a 


'  ^Jl  iBPftGI'  *" 


{ 


( 


'.^' 


..  H 


■x 


!  .     >: 


7 


020 

^nbid  noon  W«*"** 

twoPrieaU,  that  you  *»^^  ^.y  „as  the  first lett« 

Vathe,c<»W  not  have  beenaep^n^^-^^^  p  .^      4 

Jdwhat  a  m»WP»'«*r*rer»„acknowledged  *.ld. 

Uns  adopt .»  recogmze  theu  »  ^^  ^^^,,  i„  i„fo„cy.V 

len,  if  they  are  spared  a  P'*"         -vetoes  bo  exacUy 

rrep«ea-"Th«  ='?^\°^.,^t.»vinced  »ethat  we 

« Jar  to  my  <>«»  '^^^^.^er  could  vie«  h.m  m 'h« 
should  not  be  .named     1  »*  cotmnued-"  V«» 

relaliou  of  a  husband.       in  j  o  other 

ZataUon  was  dreadful  ^^J^f  jivulgiog  to  yo« 
^«  <=""*"  "*  ''I^rcf^ -pecting  the  mann« 
fethet  the  prior  "'f  "*""7had  l^oome  acquainted 
to  which  you  and  D.g«nu  h  ^^gj, 

,„d  even  the  »''»''' ^''t^llposure  of  that  peculiar 

'effrontery  fc'*? -!!iCc S have  heen  m»t»^>y 
iniquity."    I  added-   ".j,  have  been  calmed  m  a 

Zm  ;  '^"O  '^S"""  luon  of  the  fact,  that  ^e  are 
Imentby  the  demon^t^n^of    ^^„„U«j_«  True  i 

maternally  related."  Our  mo  ^^^  j^^^,^  ^,k 

1       but  ray  dear  Uu«e !  V^^^  i„  ,„,!  vigor,  as  soou 

«d  design  upon  JO"  ^ ';^':^^ht  probably  be  reeov- 
•      as  he  ascertained,  that  y<«' J..  Thanks  be  to  God« 

:  ed."    I  suddenly  ey^Uted  ^^^^^  ^^  ^^,  j 

»y  ^-"^  ""':^Urd  wl  on  my  side,  and  my  help 


1'- 


h-. 


•  I 


E)iganu 
loideD' 

it  is  ^«- 
1  of  the 
lb  ibeir 
rat  letter 
nd  your 

wonder- 
iests  and 
ged  child- 
'infancy." 
o  exactly 
e  that  we 
him  in  the 
^_«  Your 

Jo  other 
,g  to  your 
he  manner 
acquainted, 
Bs  sufficient 
hat  peculiar 
en  mutually 

calmed  in  a 

that  we  arc 
ed— "True; 
Jesuit's  wick- 
vigor,  as  soott 
tbly  be  recov- 
9  be  to  God '. 
areofthefow- 

and  my  ^«^P 


v;«t 


291  t 

was  in  the  name  of  the  Lord  who  made  heaven  and 
earth.'    But  proceed  with  your  narrative." 

*  •    ■  1.J1  "Ml.- 

""  Therese  thus  continued.    "  The  first  communica- 
tion which  pleased  the  Priest,  was  the  Surgeon's  state- 
ment, that  the  female  servant  whom  Diganu  kept  was 
never  seen  out  of  the  house.     From  this  fact,  the  wily 
Jesuit  observed  that  there  wan  cause  for  more  minute 
inquiry.    The  Surgeon,  however,  and  the  woman  with 
whom  you  had  reisided,  both  avowed  that  you  were  not 
the  girl  who  had  been  sick  at  Lorette."    I  remarked — 
"I  do  not  \Vonder  at  their  being  deceived  ;  for  I  always 
dressed  so  uncouthly  that  no  person  could  easily  have  re- 
cognized me."  Therese  continued — "  Diganu's  Father 
and  the  Surgeon  were  outwitted  at  their  interview  with 
the  young  men.     Their  ihimovahle  firmness,  their  un- 
concern at  the  Priest's  details,  and  their  imperturbable 
composure  when  his  parting  menace  was  pronounied, 
disconcerted  him,  and  the  Pretre's  ingenuity  was  com- 
pletely frustrated.     Every  t  hing  might  h|ive  passed  un- 
heeded, had  your  appointed  marriage  been  deferred,  or 
had  any  other  place  been  selected  for  the  ceremony. 
But  as  soon  as  the   Cure  of  Lorette  heard    Diganu'e 
name  mentioned  as  the  bridegroom,  the  circumstance 
was  communicated  to  his  Father.     The  Jesuit,  without 
hesitation,  affirmed  that  tl»e  choice  of  Lorette  for  the 
marriage  was  a  proof  of  some  peculiar  cause,  and  in- 
stantly avowed  his  conviction  that  you  were  the  pro- 
posed wife.     The  squaw  was  therefore  directed  to  visit 
you  ;  and  although  rather  incoherent,  her  account  ren- 
dered immediate  measures  indispensable.    Your  Fa* 

19 

■■■/■'..'    '■.?^. 
.-■■-■    .  -t  - 


'9^\ 


'*4i*-:***<*« 


p 


/ 


ther  was  sent  for  to  meet  ue  at  Lorette.    He  was  mere- 
ly informed  that  some  time  before  you  had  eloped  from 
our  care.    Jhe  heresy  which  you   had  imbibed  from 
Marguerite  was  alleged   as  the  cause.     It  was  alfo 
stated,  that  you  had  been  traced  to  Diganu's  house,  and 
that  you  were  engaged  I  o  be  married ;  that  a  separa-  ■ 
lion  wae  unavoidable ;  and   to  conceal  our  mutual 
secrets,  he  consented  to  the  plan  which  was  executed. 
Your  dress  betrayed  you  ;  for  the  Jesuit  and   Guise 
both  recognized  it  upon  your  entrance  into  the  church. 
Of  the  four  in  the  conveyance  in  which  you   were 
driven  to  the  General  Hospital,  your  Father  was  the 
most  callous.     He  swore,  that  it  would  be  preferable 
to  permit  your  marriage.     "  They  are  not  related  at  all, 
according  to  the  law  of  the  church—he  said— neither  of 
them  can  have  any  Father  or  Mother,  because  a  Priest 
or  a  Nun  cannot  be  a  parent ;  and  at  all  events,  a 
dispensation  can  be  obtained  from  the  Bishop ;  and 
then  we  shall  be  no  more  plagued  with  them.    If  Louise 
will  not  be  a  Nun  and  do  like  her  mother,  let  her  live 
with  Diganu,  married  or  single  as  they  please."    His 
scheme  would  have  been  assented  to  at  first,  for  he 
proposed  it  before  we  meet  in  the  church,  had   not 
Diganu's  Father  resisted  the  proposition.    He  could  not 
brook  that  bitter  disappointment :   so  with  true  Jesuit 
grimace  he  descanted   upon  illegal  marriages;  and 
your  Father  feeling  neither  for  you  nor  Diganu  more 
than  he  did  for  his  brother  Priest  and  me,  agreed  to 
those  violent  measures  which  were  adopted."    I  asked 
Therese — "  Can  you  inform  me  why  I  was  released 
from  the  insane  apartment  and  transfered  fo  Mon- 
treal?'* 


'-:■"»  J' 


1,      '^ 


;:a*£fiffiass 


^rm^^^ 


^      f 


2ad 


dfrom 
as  aV» 
ise,  and 
gepara- 

xccuted. 
d  Ouiee 
5  church, 
ou  vere 
was  the 
preferahle 

ated  at  aM> 
-neither  of 
,se  a  Priest 
I  events,  a 

ishop-,  and 
,   If  Louise 

let  her  live 
ease."    .His 
first,  for  he 
ch,  had  not 
He  could  not 
h  true  3e8uit 
irriages;  and 
Diganu  more 
ne,  agreed  to 

led."    1  as*^®° 
was  released 

fered  to  Men- 


1.>..V  I.  .    .  **     ^-+ 


^  "The  intervteti^  which  Diganu  and  Chretien  had 
With  tM  Bishop  ^replied  Therese—perplexed  us; 
although  the  Cure  of  Lorette  had  stated  the  circuni- 
stancos  to  him,  in  such  a  manner,  as  to  exonerate  the 
Priests,  and  to  criraioiite  your  brother  and  hi8  friends. 
Nevertheiew,  the  Bishop  perceived  that  the  complai- 
nants wer^  not  intimidated  by  his  menaces.  He  saw 
in  them  a  cooi  spirit  of  resolute  defiance  ;  and  us  the 
consequences  might  atfect  the  priestcraft,  he  deemed  it 
necessary  more  minutely  to  examine  the  subject  The 
Cure  of  Lorette  was  ordered  to  attend  ;  and  in  recoun- 
ting the  'threats  which  Rohoiruic  addrest^ed  to  him ; 
the  Cure  expressed  his  fears,  from  the  number  of  wit- 
nesses who  were  present,some  of  whom  were  unknown 
except  to  Diganu  and  Chretien  and  the  lawyer,  and 
therefore  could  not  be  secretly  removed,  that  a  judi- 
cial investigation  would  be  attended  with  serious  injury 
to  their  order  j  and  recommended  that  the  Bishop 
should  interpose  his  authority,  so  as  to  quash  those  de 
nounced  proceedings  at  law,  which  would  terminate  in 
tlie  conviction  and  disgrace  of  the  assailants,  'i  he 
two  Priests  were  therefore  directed  to  meet  at  the 
Bishop's  palace  ;  and  at  first  he  highly  censured  them 
for  their  doings.  However  they  speedily  pacified  their 
superior's  pretended  wrath,  by  assuring  him  that  the 
Nun  who  was  concerned  was  his  own  daughter.  He 
immediately  visited  me  in  the  Convent,  and  having 
examined  me  for  the  mark  of  recognition — here  our 
Mother  shewed  me  the  sign  which  had  Imen  stamped 
by  his  order — the  Bishop  acknowledged  that  I  was  hie 
child.    He  also  stated  that  my  Mother  had  been  Supe- 


'M^ 


f^d: 


':'XiBSf^nmsnaiMtHa, 


r  " 


\ 


3S4 


f. 


'4 


f ieure  of  the  General  Hospital,  but  many  years  before 
had  died.     The  Jesuit  afterwards  told  nie  that  he  had 
been  informed  of  my  relation  to  the  Bishop  by  the  Su- 
pericure  herself;  and  unlcnuwn  to  nie,  had  been  as- 
sored  pf  the  truth  of  iier  etatenient,  through  having 
seen  the  inark  which  she  had  described.     This  deve- 
lopment changed  our  affairs,  as  ii  placed  fjyery  one  ot 
the  parlies  in  a  new  relation.     Tlie  Bi'tihop  directed 
that  the  storm  should  be  uppt'ased  by  an  unqualitied 
assent  to  all  the  lawyer's  propotiHUiib  ;  I  ut  (his  was 
not  done,  until  i  hud  explained  the  t^ulject  to  my 
Father  at  cDufession  ;  expressly  ihat  as  a  Priest,  under 
the  seal  of  that  secrecy  which  the  ceremony  im^toses, 
he  might  know  all  the  complicated  events  connected 
with  you  and  your  brother.     He  accordingly  adapted 
his  measures  to  the  crisis  ;  and  being  pleased  with  the 
character  of   I)iganu  ai.d  (  hreiien,  he  c*  nimanded 
that  every  requisition  which  Rohoirsic  made  to  pacify 
the  young  men  who  had  so  nobly  acted  should  be 
complied  with,  if  they  did  not  unldld  the  comiectica 
between  the  Priests  and  Nuns.     The  ctMiditions  in  re- 
spect to  yourself  were  the  lawyer's  spontaneous  de- 
mand— but  that  Rohcrtrsic  should  be  convinced,  that 
you  both  were  my  children  was  an  e6»«ieiitial  point  with 
Diganu.     Upon  this  assurance,  he  has  i^ubmitted  to  his 
deprivation  with  as  much  fortitude  as  he  tan  culti- 
vato      1  rejoice  in  what  he  is,  and  in  what  I  hope,  we 
shall  be,  at  our  meeting  in  the  invisible  world.     From 
the  proofs  given  to  Rohoirsic,  with  the  exception  of  my 
relation  to  the  Bishop,  1  have  no  doubt  that  he  under- 
stands the  whole  secret.'^    "Where  did  you  chiefly 


-iv'W^*»*»**,«i«**"'i''HV'  '•  ti",  r* 


M       V 


'    I 


".) 


925 


xu  before 
It  he  had 
y  ihe  Su- 
been  as- 
•b  having 
I  bis  t\eve- 
rery  one  ot 
,p  directed 
unquHlified 
xi  iV»is  was 
ject  to  my 
>iiest5  under 
juy  in»lH)se8, 
ts  com»ected 
,jg\y  adapted 
ysti\  with  the 

c«  lumanded 
.ade  U)  pacify 
ed  should  be 
rje  comiectica 
iidiiions  in  fe 
lontaneous  de- 
onviuced,  that 
uiial  point  v/itU 
s.ubii»ittedU)his 
s  he  can  culti- 
vbat  I  hope,  we 
eWorld.    F»om 
exception  of  my 
i  that  he  under- 

^  you  chiefly 


reside — ^I  asked — since  our  separation  at  the  General 
Hospital?"  Therese  answered — ^'  I  remained  in  Que* 
kec  about  four  years,  and  you  were  continually  near 
me  ;  but  you  never  saw  me.  After  that  period,  I  re- 
quested the  Bishop  to  permit  me  to  reside  at  Point  aux 
Trembles ;  and  there  I  first  began  to  reflect  upon  my* 

#pil^>,  It  originated  partly  in  the  great  difference  of 
character  and  temper  between  myself  and  one  of  my 

.;  associates  of  nearly  my  own  age.  I  suspect  that  she 
was  just  such  a  Nun  as  yon  would  have  been  :  unsus> 
picious  but  reserved,  and  an  unsciiitinizing  devotee,  in 
whom  confidence  could  be  reposed  for  any  thing  good ; 
the  specimen  of  a  Convent  for  show,  necessary  to  be 
kept  for  display  and  ornament.  I  believe  that  she  was 
as  ignorant  of  the  true  nature  of  a  Nunnery  as  a  per- 
son who  has  never  heard  of  monastic  life.  She  was 
remarkably  placid  and  lowly,  and  pursued  the  ordinary 
routine  not  less  mechanically  than  an  automaton.  We 
often  conversed  together,  and  I  was  surprised  at  her 
real  or  affected  innocence ;  but  as  I  felt  no  inclination 
to  disturb  her  in  her  course,  I  reflected  upon  her  pecu- 
liar qualities,  and  at  length  concluded  tliat  her  even 
and  useless  life  was  preferable  to  my  own  restless  and 
tormenting  passions.  It  is  now  nearly  four  years  since 
I  began  to  experience  unequivocal  symptoms  of  feeble- 
ness. Confinement  and  seclusion  occasionally  fol- 
lowed ;  and  in  solitude,  my  conscience  thundered  its 
denunciations  against  my  heinous  crime?.  The  first 
effect  was  ray  dissatisfaction  with  the  Priests.  I  felt 
that  my  whole  life  was  disgusting,  that  I  was  charge- 
able with  having  done  no  good,  and  thai  the  accpun^ 


17' 


?.:^^,^v 


■■ist>''' 


,  ■'■■<»■ 

-9    ->S 


■kit' 


K.- fc**^TMHJwn^Efcii]tta  a;^ 


'»Ali.^...* 


■»' iiimn 


ms» 


„1ii3WWBas-*¥««. 


■MM 


226 

was  evil,  only  evil,  continually.    My  nervous  depres- 
sions increased.    These  additionally  alarmed  my  ima- 
gination ;  and  acting  upon  a  temper  naturally  cajH 
iious  and  vehement  and  habituated  to  long  uuruliness, 
rendered  me  peevish  and  morose.     The  darkness  of 
my  mind  filled  ine  with  disquietude,  and  1  had  no 
comforter.     I  requested  permission  to  return  to  Quebec. 
To  this  the  Bish  p  objected ;  and  during  a  visit  which 
he  made  me,  he  proposed  that  I  should  remove  to 
Montreal,  with  permission  to  correspond  with  Rohoirsic. 
The  two  years  which  1  passed  in  the  old  ISunnery  in 
Montreal  were  a  period  of  almost  unceasing  pain  both 
in  mind  and  body,  without  any  alleviation.     Scorned, 
detested  and  slighted  like  yourself,  but  without  your 
interior  comforts,  and  agonized  with  variety  of  grief,  it 
was  a  time  of  most  tormenting  fe^r.     The  Pretrea  I 
abhorred,  their  doctrines  1  disbelieved,  their  mum^nery 
I  despised;   and   their  excomnmnication    1  scorned. 
With  inexpressible  disquietude  I  was  revolving  my 
situation,  when  a  sudden  thought  rut'hed  into  my 
mind  to  have  you  for  my  companion."     1  remarked — 
"  That  impression  upon  your  mind  must  have  proceed- 
ed from  Divine  influence  ;  and  is  another  proof  upon 
what  fleeting  thoughts  and  apparently  trifling  events, 
the  most  important  consequences  depend."     Therese 
answered — "  So  I  have  latterly  considered  it.     That 
impression  was  the  gate  to  the  path  of  the  just  for  me 
to  walk  in  to  the  endless  day.    But  O!    what  did  I 
feel  I  shame,  disgrace,  remorse  and  even  horror!  then 
I  desired  your  forgiveness,  hoped  for  your  sympathy, 
longed  for  kiw)wledge,  and  lealized  an  indefinable  anx 


f 


-mi 


j»i,»«.9mfiiir'^t 


237 


■**, 


depres- 
my  iina- 

lUy  ca^ 
iruliness, 

rkness  of 

I  had  no 
,Gl»»ebeo. 
isit  wbich 
remove  to 
Bohoiisic 
iunnevy  in 
p  pain  both 
Scorned, 
thcut  your 
,  of  grief,  it 
le  Pretres  I 
r  mum  nery 
,   1  scorned, 
jvolving  my 
led  into  my 
L  remarked — 
have  proceed- 
;t  proof  upon 
rifling  events, 
id."     Therese 
.red  it.    Thai 
the  just  for  me 
)t    what  did  I 
n horror!  then 
^our  sympathy, 
ndcfinableanx 


iely  for  something  or  any  thing  whicli  might  calm  tlie 
tempestuous  ragings  of  my  soul.  Nothing  upon  earth 
could  make  me  more  debased  ;  and  I  was  solicitous 
to  hear  you  say  that  you  pardoned  my  unnatural 
wickedness  Like  Job,  I  was  full  of  tossings  to  and 
fro ;  yet  Ihe  wish  for  your  company  ittrengthened,  and  I 
wrote  my  first  letter  to  Rohoirsic,  containing  my  request. 
He  saw  in  the  plan  an  eligible  mode  to  release  you 
fmm  your  vexations,  and  received  to  effect  it.  His 
inflexible  obstinacy  aUme  conquered.  He  has  acted 
with  so  much  honpr,  that  while  the  Jesuits  hate  him 
for  his  acquaintance  with  all  their  detestable  manoeu- 
vres, they  implicitly  confide  in  him  in  reference  to  our 
affairs.  My  father  having  died  soon  after  my  removal 
to  Montreal,  the  present  Bishop  opposed  the  scheme. 
Rohoirsic  insisted,  and  at  length,  Diganu's  father  rep- 
resented that  it  was  of  no  importance.  *  Therese  and 
Louise — said  the  Prie«t — are  incorrigible  and  accjjrsed 
heretics.  They  cannot  long  feurvive;  let  them  live 
togetlier  and  quarrel  till  they  are  dead."  His  unquench- 
able malignity,  through  Divine  compassion,  has  been 
disappointed .  We  are  both  unknown  at  Three  Rivers. 
J  therefore  selected  this  place  as  our  residence.  The 
lawyer  undertook  to  persuade  you  to  accede  to  the  ar- 
rangement ;  and  here  we  are  in  peace.  '  What  shall 
I  render  unto  the  Lord  for  his  benefits  toward  me.  He 
hath  deliveired  my  soul  from  death,  mine  eyes  from 
tears,  and  my  feet  from  falling !' — After  a  pause  she 
added — Do  you  remember  any  other  particulars,  Louise, 
which  you  wish  to  have  illustrated  ? '  My  reply  was — 
"  No ;  except  that  you  will  specify  my  age."    Therese 


\ 


).\ 


•  1 


I, 


:%i 


-*'W*»'«!«l|!Si«i-r  ...,>*<'- 


■WW 


■fO*^ 


.r/^TiW'us  wtflikv. 


I'V 


228 


\ 


f; 


i:    ■ 


said-^*-  You  are  now  nearly  thirty-one  years  oid  ;  a 
martyr  to  the  depravity  of  a  Jesuit  and  a  Nun — with 
tearful  emotion  she  presently  added — how  adorable,  my 
Louise,  iathat  goodness  of  God  which  can  pardon  the 
monster  mother  who  has  murdered  such  virtuous  love- 
liness ?"  As  soon  as  1  could  speak,  I  subjoined—"  l«ct 
this  reflection  and  all  its  connected  topics  henceforth 
sleep  with  your  father  and  my  father  in  grave-hke 
oblivion.  We  can  find  ample  subjects  for  discussion 
in  our  present  experience  and  future  anticipations. 
As  the  Apostle  Paul  has  set  us  the  example  ;  '  let  us 
forget  those  things  which  are  behind,  «nd  reach  forth 
unto  those  things  which  are  before."  Your  mother 
very  tenderly  replied — "  How  kind,  my  dear  Louise! 
it  shall  be  as  you  desire.  The  past  henceforth  shall  be 
only  subjects  for  penitence  and  my  private  meditation. 
It  shall  be  my  endeavor  to  look  to  Jesus,  '  that  I  may 
know  him,  and  the  power  of  his  resurrection,  and  the 
fellowship  of  his  sufferings."  From  that  day,  with  the 
exception  of  yourself  and  Chretien,  no  extraneous  mat- 
ters, my  dear  Diganu,  attracted  our  attention  ;  I  trust 
in  the  best  sense,  '  the  world  was  crucified  unto  us,  and 
we  unto  the  wwld.'  .    - 


i 


Louise  thus  narrated  the  closing  part  of  Therese*6 
earthly  pilgrimage. — I  had  hoped,  as  the  spring  would 
afford  us  opportunity  of  being  in  the  air,  that  Therese's 
strength  might  be  partially  restored.  We  had  become 
endeared  to  each  other  as  Christian  friends,  and  our 
daily  communion  sanctified  and  cemented  our  attach- 
ooent.   But  I  was  disappointed.    She  declined  very  per> 


]■■. 


i 


mmms&\ 


f: 


■i 


old ;  a 

able,  my 
.rdon  the 
I0U8  love- 
— »  Lei 
lenceforth 
orrave-like 
discussion 
icipations. 
e  ;  '  let  us 
•each  forth 
»ur  mothei 
■ar  Louise '. 
rth  shall  be 
meditation, 
that  I  may 
ion,  and  the 
ay,  with  the 
aneous  mat- 
lion  ;  I  trust 
unto  us,  and 

of  Therese*6 
spring  would 
hat  Therese's 
e  had  become 
ends,  and  our 
3d  our  attach- 
:lined  very  per- 


M 


329 

ceptibly,  until  I  thought  it  my  duty  to  inform  the 
slawyer  of  her  situation.  Rohoirsic  visited  us,  received 
her  beaedictiou  for  you,  acct^pted  her  gratitude,  and 
promised  to  fulfil  her  requests.  She  then  seemed  to 
have  discarded  all  connection  with  this  world  except 
myself.  The  revolving  weeks  only  witnessed  her  in- 
creasing solicitude  that  she  ni^hi  not  be  deceived  at 
last ;  that  she  might  not  he  deserted  by  the  Lord  in 
the  valley  of  the  shadow  of  death  ;  and  thutshe  might 
enjoy  the  huml)lest  part  in  the  immortal  sungsot  the 
redeemed.  Sometimes  she  appeared  to  dread  the  ap- 
proaching, separation  from  the  body;  while  at  others, 
•he  would  speak  of  it  with  \  rembling  hope.  1  was  how- 
ever gratified  to  know,  that  I  er  apprehent^ions  of  the 
spirituality  of  God's  law  became  more  inicni^e.  Hei  pe- 
titions aino  were  nu>t-e  fervid  for  the  acct  piahle  qualities 
wrought  in  the  soul  by  Divine  grace  ;  and  lier  anxie- 
ties to  be  blessed  with  the  good  hope  that  purifieth  the 
heart  steadily  increased.  Therese  imbiUed  with  gree- 
diness al:  that  knowledge  which  enlarged  her  views  of 
spiritual  things,  especially  in  their  searchiiig<>perutious 
upon  her  own  conscience  ;  and  she  would  often  pro- 
nounce her  emphatic  assent  to  the  Scriptures  and 
other  books.  u '      v ^^j. hk^-%\  % \  '„ 


'i<\  vta'i'SV' 


^<^^:■ 


)v, 


n  l^^r. 


.1  '-li, 


A  year  had  nearly  elapsed  fiom  our  first  interview, 
when  Therese  manifested  symptoms  of  speedy  dissolu- 
tion. She  was  composed  and  equable  ;  and  her  whole 
attention  was  absorbed  by  the  rromenlous  question  : 
*  Am  I  in  ( /hrist  Jesus  V  Divine  mercy  exempted  her 
from  unusual  depression  ;  and  her  own  contrition  avd 


' 


.  ! 


230 


..r 


)x^ 


humility  precluded  any  strtng  ^ings  of  elevatiofi. 
"  I  feel  myself — our  mother  on  one  occasion  remark- 
ed— in  a  situation  something  like  Peter's  when  he  was 
in  the  sea.  He  saw  his  perilous  and  helpless  state  ; 
he  believed  the  power  and  mercy  of  Jesus ;  and  cried, 
Lord,save  nie !  This,  Louise,  is  ray  abiding  experience. 
I  behold  my  presumptuoiin  sin^,  my  blood-guiltiness, 
and  my  great  transgressions  ;  and  I  can  only  look  to 
the  infinite  compassions  of  him  '  who  is  able  to  save  to 
the  uttermost,'  through  the  ever  living  Intercessor. 
f  therefore  consuintly  pray,  '  deliver  me,  <  >  God,  thou 
God  of  my  salvatiini  !*  My  reply  was — "  No  doubt, 
Therese,  the  Lont  has  heard  your  voice  and  your  sup- 
plication :  and  1  also  have  often  prayed  for  you,  that 
you  may  experience,  like  Peter,  the  truth  of  the  lA)rd's 
mediation;  and  that  in  the  tryiig  scene,  your  faith 
may  not  fail."  Of  herself  she  spoke  but  little  except  in 
the  form  of  ejaculatory  supplication  ;  but  her  language 
evinced  a  heart  deeply  impressed  with  all  the  living 
realities  of  the  world  to  come.  She  often  uttered  ques- 
tions, the  result  no  doubt  of  her  previous  meditation — 
'Where  shall  I  go?  what  shall  I  be  ?  what  shall  I  do? 
whom  shall  I  see  ?  what  shall  I  say  ?  how  shall  1  live? 
am  I  ready  for  the  change  V  -  Then  she  would  request 
me  to  read  to  her  those  verses  of  Scriptuie  which  de- 
scribe the  future  state  in  its  characters,  inhabitautb  and 
employments,  with  the  pre-requisites  which  the  Lord 
claims  as  necessary  to  an  admission  into  his  Father's 
house  of  many  mansions.  Sometimes  she  woUld  speak 
with  tolerable  confidence;  and  after  hearing  a  paragraph 
which  enumerates  the  fruits  of  the  spirit  as  evidences 


.m/: 


Km 


^r|||iKyipm,i«i, 


■«Myc#!WI9-tv-- 


^•'>«*'-*X**i,««*io«jaa.fd»f^^ 


..TWi'^'il 


231 


elevatiot. 

I  temark- 
en  he  was 
[ess  state ; 
and  cried, 
sxperience. 
.guiltiness, 
ily  look  to 
J  U)  save  l» 
Intercessor. 

God,  thou 
■<■  No  doubt, 
id  your  sup- 
jr  you,  that 
of  iheliord's 
your  faith 
tie  except  in 
her  language 

II  the  living 
uttered  ques- 
nieditation— 
,at  shall  Idol 
w  shall!  live? 
would  request 
,ie  which  de- 
ihabitautb  and 
bich  the  Lord 
)  his  Father's 
he  would  speak 
ing  a  paragraph 
it  as  evidences 


i 
-I 


«<ii 


of  the  work  of  grace,  she  would  add — '  well,  I  think, 
I  have  attained  a  little  of  that  quality' — and  when  re- 
viewing  the  causes  of  exclusion  from  the  kingdom  of 
heaven,  she  would  remark — '  Blessed  be  God  !  I  think 
I  am  cleansed  from  that  stain.'  But  generally  her 
comfort  was  restricted  to  the  hope,  that  she  had  unfeign- 
edly  repented  of  her  sins,  and  that  with  sincere  de 
sire  she  was  'looking  for  the  mercy  of  the  Lord  .Tesus 
Christ  unto  eternal  life."    .. 


:ir 


'h- 


W 


For  several  days  before  her  departure,  Therese  con 
tinued  in  mych  stupor.  Our  intercourse  was  short  and 
unfrequent ;  but  her  feoble  expressions  developed  more 
confidence.  On  the  last  day  of  her  life,  the  Superieurc 
propos  d  that  the  Chaplain  should  be  admitted.  I  ob- 
jeoted;  as  it  v' jiated  nil  my  religious  principles ;  but  ex- 
pressed my  willingness  that  the  Superieure  should  hint 
her  wish  to  the  dying  penitent.  During  her  next  sen-; 
sible  interval,  the  head  of  the  Convent  proffered  the  at- 
tendance of  the  Priest  to  administer  the  Inst  ofBces  of 
his  Church.  With  long  pauses  as  her  feebleness  per- 
mitted, Therese  observed — "  I  am  greatly  indebted 
and  thankful  to  you,  Madame,  for  all  your  kindness  to 
me  and  Louise,  since  we  have  been  residents  here ;  but 
this  offer  I  cannot  accept.  I  wish  to  give  you  ray  dy- 
ing testimony.  After  a  long  acquaintance  with  your 
religion,  I  am  convinced  that  it  is  a  gross  imposition 
upon  mankind^,;  It  is  not  le!>s  impious  and  absurd  in 
doctrine,  than  practically  immoral  and  wicked."  The 
Superieure  uttered  an  Ave  Mary,  and  crossed  herself  in 
agitation.    Therese  continued — "  I  was  educated  in 


m 


■■^.r. 


«»«****■•:"•• 


*-'#^k 


i«tiijit|iHi!i!ii !  'Jwiilih 


"^-' 


)  I . 


i\ 


your  Church,  have  lived  in  (Convents, and  for  forty  years 
believed  all  that  the  Pretres  taught,  and  did  every  thing 
which  they  ordered  me.  My  alienation  from  them 
and  their  delumons  commenced  iu  solitude,  when  I  was 
'made  to  possess  monthsof  vanity,  and  wearisome  nights 
were  appointed  unto  me.'  I  know  all  their  private 
infidelity  and  vices,  their  Jesuitical  finesse,  their  mas- 
Querading  characters,  and  their  public  impostures.** 
The  Superieure  again  trembled  and  crossed  herself. 
*'  But  I  had  no  substitute  for  the  evils  which  my  con- 
science rejected — added  Therese.  She  took  my  hand — 
Louise  has  taught  me  what  I  did  not  know.  She  has 
(M)mmunicated  to  me  instructions  from  the  true  word 
of  God ;  and  in  its  light,  I  trust  that  I  have  seen 
the  light.'  I  have  discarded  your  Church.  I  loathe 
all  its  commutations  for  iniquity,  the  claim  to  the 
Divine  prerogative  to  absolve  from  sin  which  the 
Priests  blasphemously  assume,  and  the  power  which 
they  so  iniquitously  exercise  over  the  hearts  and  con- 
sciences of  the  silly  deceived  people,  *  laden  with  sins 
and  taken  captive  by  them  at  their  will' — and  I  abhor 
as  the  source  of  all  evil,  the  ruinous  opinion  which  they 
teach,  that  the  everlasting  condition  of  every  individual 
will  be  determined  according  to  their  appointment. 
The  injuries  which  they  have  done  to  me  and  Louisei 
we  heartily  forgive  ;  and  we  also  pray,  that  the  Lord 
9(i\\  have  mercy  upon  you  and  upon  them,  and  upon 
the  deceived  multitudes  whom  as  '  bhtid  guides^  they 
are  leading  into  the  ditch.'  I  am  not  now  one  of  theit 
disciples.  To  a  Roman  Priest,  I  will  make  no  confeb* 
eion.    I  abhor  his  pretended  absolution,  which  he  will 


f- .     ' 


.?«>■ 


i79tV*  j:  Jt^^^Kfflfff^f^P' ' 


'''"i****MI*'U-' 


■i^i'M    ■>»iM«(fVl|>l| 


mas- 


233 

pronounce  only  for  money  or  for  his  criminal  gratifica- 
tion ;  atid  which,  as  ihey  often  told  me,  depended  upoQ 
their  intention  ;  but  who  can  be  certain  of  what 
a  Jesuit's  designS)  except  probably  by  the  rule  of  re- 
verse ?  As  to  their  extreme  unction,  I  am  certam  that 
it  is  the  invention  of  Siitan  to  smoot h  the  entrance  to 
eternal  despair.  1  request  therefore  that  I  may  be  per- 
mitted to  depart  inquietude,  and  not  be  discomposed 
in  my  last  mxnents  ityarire  which  Christianity  con- 
demns. I  am  now  in  charity  and  peace  with  all  man- 
kind. My  dear  Louise !  do  not  permit  the  holy  calm 
Within  to  be  ruffled."  I  replied — "The  Superieure, 
tny  dear  mother,  has  only  performed  her  duty  ;  1  dis- 
approved of  the  measure ;  and  I  rejoice  that  through 
the  expression  of  her  wish,  the  Lord  has  enabled  you 
to  declare  your  opinions."  Therese  continued — "I 
have  now  done  with  the  world,  Louise ;  and  you  will 
soon  follow  me.  That  blessed  book  whiclkopeDcd  mjr 
blind  eyes  and  healed  my  broken  heart,  will  support 
you  during  your  short  remaining  stay  on  earth  ;  and  [ 
trust  that  we  shall  again  meet  in  that  joy  ful  state,  wher^ 
'  the  wicked  cease  from  troubling,  and  the  weary  are  ait 
rest.'  Pray  for  me,  while  I  can  understand  your  peti- 
tions and  join  with  you  in  desire."  1  presumed  that 
the  Superieure  would  have  withdrawn  ;  but  as  she 
had  been  directed  to  witness  the  manner  of  Therese'6 
death,  she  remained  by  the  bed.  I  breathed  forth  my 
humble  but  sincere  prayer  for  our  dying  mother,  an4 
for  my  beloved  Diganu.  Her  amen  was  appended  tt> 
my  supplications,  as  my  emotions  obliged  me  to  pause  j 
especially  when  your  welfare  was  the  subject,  and  also 

20 


Ij 


when  I  implored  that  she  mif^t  enjoy  the  hght  of 
Ood's  countenance  in  the  parting  moment,  and  be 
carried  by  angels  into  Abraham's  bosom.  The  Su- 
perieure  was  evidently  affected.  To  her  it  was  a 
novelty  incomprehensible,  that  a  heretic  wgaW  pray  to 
God  through  Jchus  Christ.  As  I  arose  from  my  knees, 
Therese  motioned  to  me  to  approach  nearer  to  her ; 
iind  having  kissed  me,  with  a  look  of  tender  affection 
she  said — "My  dear  Louise,  I  hope  all  is  well.  I 
t^dst  that  I  have  found  acceptance  in  i  Christ.  May 
God  hear  and  answer  your  prayers,  and  may 
you  ever  experience  his  grace,  mercy  and  peace,  until 
we  meet  in  the  joys  of  heaven  !"  Having  presented 
the  Superieure  her  adieu,  she  reclined  her  head  in  a 
doze,  occasionally  interrupted  by  the  motion  of  her  lips, 
wh'-^h,  fruta  the  clasping  of  her  hands,  betokened 
prayer.  Her  breath  and  pulse  gradually  became  more 
Ihint.  Aftei*  several  hours,  we  distinctly  perceived  a 
i^lacid  smile  overspreading  her  languid  features ;  she 
Opened  her  eyes,  and  locked  upon  me.  I  took  her 
hand  ;  she  feeUy  returned  the  pressure — it  was  h^ 
Itot effort!  presently  my  mother  uttered — "I  shall, 
Iiooise,!  shall"^ — and  her  spirit' returned  to  the  God  who 
^ve  it.  Her  corpse  was  removed  by  Rohoirsic's  di- 
lections  ;  and  I  was  consoled  by  hearing,  my  dear 
Brother,  that  you  had  attended  ycor  Mother's  remains 
ft  "  the  house  appointed  for  all  living." 


■J 


■■.:*4^:-... 


Vf 


^. 


♦; 


in  'Alii 

DEATH    OF   LOUISE         ^    v* 

.  •  >,  •■>;•■» 

Death  springs  to  lite : —  -♦\'"»1*>»i   U 

Though  brief  and  sad  thy  story*  ''  /l^ 

Thy  years  all  spent  in  care  and  gloom,  '"^p 

Look  up,  look  up ! 

Eternity  and  glory 

Dawn  through  the  portals  of  the  tomb.  ' 


V  ni^fj 


Louise  thus  finished  her  narrative.  ''My  dear 
brother  !  I  have  been  employed  for  some  time  iu  ez^ 
amiuingthe  papers  which  record  my  experience  since 
oui  separation ;  and  as  I  know  not  how  soon  .the  mes- 
senger may  be  despatched  for  you  to  witness  my  dis- 
solution, while  I  have  a  little  strength,  I, will  supply 
all  that  is  necessary  for  you  fully  to  retrace  my  vary- 
ing exercises. 

"  From  the  first  sight  of  the  cross  on  your  bead  so 
exactly  similar  to  my  own,  i  always  lelt  as  if  we  were 
naturally  related.  When  I  assented  to  your  proposal 
of  marriage,  my  feelings  revolted,  notwithstanding  all 
my  affeciioo  for  you ;  and  something  whispered  within 
me,  you  cannot  be  married.  Nothing  but  the  dread  of 
losing  your  protection  and  that  of  Chretien,  and  oi 
being  again  separated  and  exposed  to  my  former  dan- 
gers, induced  my  involuntary  acquiescence.  It  is  im- 
possible to  ezplaiQ  te  you  the  unceasing  perplexity  in 


;»lar?:': 


»Cr- 


l^ 


I 


836 

which  I  passed  my  nights  and  days.    Every  one  of 
thoM  incideute  which  alarmed  w  urged  me  nearer  to 
you  as  the  only  alternative  of  escape ;  while  every  feel- 
ing of  my  heart  repelled  the  idea  of  a  matrimonial  con- 
nection.    The  only  point  on  v  i.ich  I  never  wavered, 
was  respecting  the  perfornianceof  the  nuptial  ceremony 
at  Lorette.     A  deep-rooted   prepossefoion,  for  which  I 
never  could  account  was  fixed  in  my  heart,  thnt  as  there 
we  first  became  acquainted,  so  there  it  »ihuuld  termi- 
nate or  be  sealed  for  ever.     Therese  intimated,  that  a 
delay  izt  the  time  and  a  change  in  the  place  would  have 
overcome  all  the  diflicuUies  ;  but  thiu  was  an  incorrect 
impression  which  the  deceitful  Prelre  had  given  her; 
for  he  iiiformed  me,  alfhough  it  might  have  involved 
'  more  trouble,  that  the  result  woukl  have  been  the  same. 
You  and   Chretien    were  so  closely   and  incessantly 
watched,  that  you  could  not  have  left  Quebec  without 
being  pursued  ;  and  be  also  assured  nie  with  the  ut- 
most sang-froid,  that  your  lives  if  necesnary  woidd  have 
been  forfeited,  rather  than  you  should  have  escaped  to 
publish  the  fact  of  my  abduction.     *' Nothing  is  more 
easy — said  the  Jesuit,  n^  ith  a  petrifying  look  of  malig- 
nant obduracy,  which  1  shall  ever  recollect — and  they 
would  have  been  remembered  only  with  abhorrence." 
Every  Priest  was  instructed  how  to  act  in   case  two 
young  men  named  Digaiiuand  Chretien  ofiisred  them- 
selves for  marriage ;  so  that  I  am  now  convinced,  the 
melancholy  affair  was  ordered  in  wisdom  and  mercy. 
Through  your   means  I   v\  as  '  elivered  your  mother 
converted,  and  a  peaceful  seclusion  is  secured   to  me 
as  long  as  I  am  a  sojourner  in  this  vale  of  tears. 


-"^m^mm- 


937 

To  Rohoirsic,  under  God,  I  am  indebted  for  all  the 
alleviationaof  my  trialn  during  my  retiideiicn  in  Cluebec. 
I  cannot  describe  to  you  his  agitation,  while  I  narrated 
my  doleful  tale.  He  delicately  requested  me  to  evade 
any  facts  which  it  would  pain  me  to  diBclose ;  and 
manifested  great  satisfaction  at  the  recital  of  my  escape  ; 
but  resolutely  pronounced  \\\*  indignation.  Pear  not, 
Louise  ; — he  said,  at  the  close  of  my  narrative — as  far 
as  is  consistent  with  the  personal  safety  of  Diganu  and 
Chretien,  you  shall  have  redress.  They  cannot  alle- 
viate your  sorrow — I  can  ;  and  be  assured,  in  spite  of 
•11  the  power,  artifices,  and  malevolence  o^  every  Je- 
suit in  (vanada,  I  will  be  your  friend  uiid  protector, 
or  some  other  person  fhall  fill  that  office,  as  long  ns  you. 
live.'  We  separated.  His  promise  was  a  reviving  cor- 
<|ial ;  the  benefits  of  which  I  have  enjoyed  during  ten 
years,  undiminished  both  in  its  sweets  and  plenteous- 
ness. 


,viri.t 


"  Notwithstanding  all  the  servile  duties  which  I  was 
obliged  to  perform,  my  spirits  remained  cheerful.  I 
lived  upon  the  truth  of  the  Divine  word.  1  suppli- 
cated for  light  to  discern  my  spiritual  way;  and  the 
Hearer  of  prayer  graciously  condescended  to  apportion 
my  ability  to  my  burden.  The  irregularities  which  I 
witnessed  only  increased  my  aversion  to  sin.  The 
pretended  arguments  with  which  my  principles  were 
assailed  affected  my  mind  no  more  than  the  green 
withes  which  bound  Samson's  strength.  The  heartless 
formality  with  which  the  Popish  ceremonies  were  des- 
patched, only  confirmed   my  dislike  Of  (hat  hollow 

20* 


«-»*<M«»—Jil.... 


•  >5 


238 


*; 


impoeiDg  exterior  which  concealed  the  real  cbrruption. 
Even  the  most  vexatious  of  all  their  devices,  the  con- 
tumely of  the  uninformed  youth  eventually  produced 
no  other  effect,  than  to  keep  me  nearer  the  Lord, 
whom  I  found  to  be  '  my  refuge  and  fortress,  and  whose 
truth  was  my  shield  and  buckler.'     Yet  there  were 
hours  of  overwhelming  dreariness.     I  was  not  formed 
for  solitude,  and  the  little  of  Christianity  which  I  knew, 
often  rendered  the  want  of  communion  with  a  fellow 
pilgrim,  a  subject  of  almost  undevuut  murmur.     When 
I  annually  heard  of  you  and  Chretien  ;  of  your  exem- 
plary characters ;  of  your  steadfast  adherence  to  your 
principles,  and  of  your  prayers  on  my  behalf,  I  have 
frequently  ejaculated—  *  O   that  I  had  wings  like  a 
dove  !  for  then  would  I  fly  away  and  be  at  rest'  with 
you.    Then  after  a  tenjporary  reverie,!  would  awake  to 
the  consciousness  of  my  confined  cell,  and  feel  an  over- 
powering restless  aching  void,  which  was  only  assua- 
ged by  the  application  of  the  gospel ;  and   with  all 
solicitude  to  realize  its  force,  1  would  u(ter — *  I  will 
say  unto  God,  my  rock,  why  hast  thou  forgotten  me  ? 
why  go  I  mourning  because  of  the  oppression  of  the 
enemy  ?  why  art  thou  cast  down,  O  my  soul  7  and 
J  why  art  thou  disquieted  within  me  ?  Hope  thou  in  God ; 
^  for  I  shall  yet  praise  him,  who  is  the  health  of  ray 
„  countenance  and  my  God."    This  calmed  the  tempest; 
,  and  although  I  counted  the  interval  to  the  New  Year's 
,  day  v\kh  impatience ;  yet  when  the  transient  interview 
with  the  lawyer  had  terminated,  it  generally  agitated 
,  xny  heart  for  some  days  after;  and  it  was  the  most 
dif^riilt  pf»r»ion  of  all  the  evangelical  schooling  which 


"f^^ 


*■ 


..M: 


-v^' 


'.»t.. 


»■■ 


v^vis 


I  experienced,  to  acquiesce  with  the  Lord's  will.    Di- 
vine grace,  however,  at  length  enabled  me  to  say,  and 
I  think  in  the  same  resigned  temper  with  which  David 
addressed  Zadok ;  '  here  am  1,  let  him  do  to  me  as 
seemedi  good  unto  him.'    I  now  understand  the  cause 
of  this  gospel  discipline.     The  Lord  was  gradually 
preparing  ray  heart  for  the  duties  of  that  grateful  office 
which  I  was  destined  to  execute.     Had  1  known  the 
name  of  my  proposed  associate,  it  is  probable  that  I  should 
have  refused  all  solicitation  ;  but  1  had  so  long  expe- 
rienced* Rohoirsic's  fi«lelity,that  his  word  was  law  with 
me.    Then  first  I  utiderstood  that  Christian  obligation^ 
to  do  good  for  its  own  sake.     Thanks  be  to  God !  it 
was  effected  ;  and  I  can  truly  say,  that  in  giving,  I  re- 
ceived.    Truly  I  was  a  novice  in  almost  every  thing, 
and  confinement  in  the  Nunnery  had  not  instructed 
me.     It  was  a  mercy,  therefore,  that  I  witnessed  your 
Mother's  last  year.     Death  and  sickness,  except  in  my 
own  experienced  debility,  1  had  never  seen  ;  for  the 
Nuns  at  Quebec  excluded  me  from  all  intercourse,  as 
much  as  if  I  had  been  infected  with  the  plague.     At 
Three  Rivers  I  very  impressively  learnt  how  mortality 
vanisheth  away.     In  a  most  aifeuting  example,  I  saw 
how  the  Lord  can  adapt  his  mercy.     Anxiously  I  be- 
held every  step  in  the  pathway  of  righteousness  trod- 
den by  Therese,  from   the  city  of  destruction  to  the 
river  of  death,  until  grace  triumphed  in  glory.     During 
this  whole  scene,  I  was  also  deeply  convinced  of  my 
own  increasing  frailty  ;  but  I  had  a  companion.    Her 
ijtrong  bursts  of  penitential  anguish  enlivened  my  own 
oontrite  feelings.    Her  occasional  vehemence  to  take 


n 


f    ■ 


.^•v*^4 


€ 


% 


-  .X* 


r.',,-!' i- ■  •■ — —■  .„-«»*<••**- 


-,.,,,,..  .,^- 


~t.   *l 


r 


040 


the  kingdom  of  heaven  by  force  quickened  my  own 
sincere  endeavors.  Her  aspirations  of  praise  inspired 
my  gratitude  ;  and  her  closely  scrutinizing  application 
of  the  Divine  oracles,  taught  me  the  genuine  charac- 
ters of  that  spiritual  raindedness  which  is  Ufe  and  peace. 
The  jesson  has  been  most  salutary.  Ot  the  soul's  se- 
paration from  the  body,  my  ideas  were  vague,  incohe- 
rent and  without  sensibility;  now  they  are  precise,  de- 
terminate, and  animating.  I  have  marked  a  penitent 
sinner's  ch^^nge;  an  emaciated  Mother's  conversion 
to  God ;  and  a  humble,  cautious,  and  apprehensive 
believer,  casting  her  hope  as  a  sure  and  steadfast 
*  anchor  within  the  veil,  whither  the  Forerunner  for  us 
is  entered ;'  and  I  rs.n  retrace  this  whole  (Christian 
landscape  of  the  narrow  road,  with  all  that  1  can  in- 
clude in  the  most  joyful  interpretation  of  the  p-itient 
Job's  cheerfully  resigned  and  peacefully  confident  lan- 
guage. It  expresses  your  Louise's  feelings  and  solici- 
tudes :  '  all  the  days  of  my  appointed  time  will  I  wait 
till  my  change  come.' 


•  "  I  was  removed  from  Three  Rivers  almost  immedi- 
ately after  the  death  of  Therese.  Rohoirsic  visited  me, 
and  stated  that  if  I  approved,  1  might  return  to  Que- 
bec to  reside  in  private  lodgings  ;  and  that  he  had 
agreed  with  Diganu's  Father,  that  you,  my  brother, 
should  not  be  apprized  of  the  fact  until  our  final  inter- 
view, when  I  should  be  on  the  threshhold  of  eternity. 
This  delighted  me,  and  the  lawyer  provided  apart- 
ments where  almost  daily  I  have  seen  you  and  Chretien. 


'    ■•:■    ^  I 


-■•*« 


^^fiiikiii- 


Ul 


%' 


I  could  have  informed  yoa  of  uotbini^  whkh  these 
papers  will  not  communicate.  lo  my  feeble  condition, 
frequent  personal  intercourse  would  only  have  agitated 
our  feelings  unnecessarily,  and  opened  your  wounds 
afresh  without  any  balm  to  assuage  the  pain.  It  has 
been  a  cordial  to  my  spirits  to  behold  you,  and  to  pray 
for  my  brother  and  his  friend  as  you  have  passed  along 
the  street,  unconscious  that  your  Louise  was  so  near 
you.  Often  have  1  rejoiced  to  hear  your  names  asso- 
ciated with  every  thing  good.  Always  have  I  felt  de- 
lighted in  (he  a^Hurance  that  our  mutual  requests  con 
stantlji  X >  "qc!  to  the  throne  of  grace  ;  and  that  we 
shall  met  u.  "  .he  New  Jerusalem,  around  the  throne  of 
God  and  of  the  Ljamb,  with  his  name  in  our  foreheads; 
there  to  see  his  face,  and  serve  him  day  and  night  in 
his  temple."         ..   ^  ,^  ,       ;     ,.      ^, 


H'i^i" 


^*  My  increasing  debility  urges  me  to  seal  the  packet 
of  manu8cripts  intended  for  your  perusal.  When  you 
read  these  papers,  my  dear  Diganu,  you  will  rejoice  as 
your  Louise  has  rejoiced,  and  you  will  weep  with  those 
who  have  wept.  The  anticipation  of  Paradise  has 
often  supported  me  amid  my  severest  earthly  trials ; 
and  now  in  the  nenring  approach  of  dissolution,  the 
prospecttve  reunion  with  our  Mother  and  ypu  and 
Chretien,  among  '  the  great  multitude  whom  no  man 
can  number,  to  stand  before  the  throne  and  before  the 
Lamb,  and  sing  salvation  to  our  God/'  so  enraptures 
my  heart,  that  it  leaves  me  nothing  to  desire,  but  to  be 
'clothed  upon  with  our  house  which  is  from  heaven, 


MM* 


»    v 


f 


<:*  348  .../■^. 

that  mortality  might  be  swallowed  up  of  life :  an4 
being  accepted,  that  we  may  be  present  with  the  LordP 
Amen. 

**  Accept,  my  beloved  Brother,  the  undyii^  love,  and 
the  Christian  benediction  of  your  unchanged  and  faith- 
fully affectionate  sister. 

'  '  ^  '  -  LouisB. 


■v^ 


POSTCRIPT   BY    DIGANU. 


"  At  the  close  of  the  year  17 — Rohoirsic  visited  us. 
tie  mentioned  his  airreenient  with  the  Pretre,  that  in 
the  last  period  of  her  hfe,  we  should  be  admitted  to  the 
presence  of  Louise  ;  made  us  acquainted  with  her  remo- 
val to  Ctuebec,  and  also  stated  thut  she  had  frequently 
seen  us.  <  I  came  to  apprize  you  of  these  circiimc)tan- 
ces — said  our  friend — and  also  to  inform  you  that  she 
is  now  reduced  so  low,  that  you  may  prepare  your 
minds  for  the  invitation  to  the  closing  scene  of  her  mor- 
tal existence." 


\ 


V% 


After  several  days  Rohoirsic  again  appeared,  and 
said-^"  Louise  has  been  much  affected  with  the  plea- 
sing anticipation  of  meeting  you.  You  will  find  her 
extremely  alt^ed  in  appearance,  so  that  you  would  not 
recognize  her,  except  by  her  voice,  and  the  cross.  You 
are  nearly  the  same, — she  says — as  she  identified  you 
both  in  the  street,  when  you  were  first  noticed  by  her. 
Louise  is  at  the  portal  of  eternity;  perfectly  conscious,  in 
all  her  mental  vigor ;  and  although  she  can  speak  but 


^!^''-- 


0"' 


VtitXtlifSMItt^ 


■■—■i^ 


Httfe)  ske  w  aoxioudto  present  you  her  last  adieu.'  He 
retired  ;  and  after  ^  abort  interval  returned:  *  Come— 
Baid  our  friend-^liouise  is  near  death,  but  fully  sensible, 
and  desirous  to  receive  you/        ^^  ,  -      >V:;, 

Who  can  conceive  what  C  fell,  when  on  entering  the 
room, we  saw  instead  of  the  once  blooming  and  grace- 
iui  Louise,  a  pale  skeleton  ?  She  presented  her  haud — 
'  Let  me  look  at  your  head' — even  in  its  feebleness,  it 
was  her  own  delightful,  well-remembered  voice.  '  It 
is  Diganu' — she  said ;  and  as  she  turned  back  her 
hair  with  her  cold,  hand,  1  beheld  the  cross — '  My 
Louise  !'  I  could  utter  no  more.  We  exchanged  our 
tenderest  salutation.  After  a  short  silence,  she  beck' 
oned  to  Chretien  who  also  received  the  kiss  of  our  dy- 
ing protegee.  When  we  had  partially  recovered  our 
feeliugs,  she  addressed  me  with  great  difficulty.  '  My 
Brother,  here  is  a  packet  which  I  wished  to  deliver  into 
your  own  hands — she  gave  me  the  narrative  of  her  ex- 
perience— our  friend  wilt  fulfil  all  my  directions.'  She 
then  presented  her  thanks  to  Rohoirsic  for  all  his  care 
and  kindness,  and  prayed  that  the  Lord  would  reward 
him  a  hundred  fold  ;  and  that  he  might  inherit  ever- 
lasting life.  As  Chretien  received  her  testimonial  o( 
affection,  he  thanked  God  thut  he  was  permilted  to 
behold  her  in  peace.  '  Yes,  Chretien — she  replied— 
your  friend  has  no  doubt  of  her  eternal  safety.* 
She  then  addressed  me  "I  sent  fur  you,  my  beloved 
Brother,  that  we  might  once  more  unite  our  devotions 
on  earth.  Pray  for  me  and  for  yourselves ;  and  your 
Louise  will  join  in  pleading  with  God  on  your  behalf 


'4 


-^^«'*ISMf 


HWi 


I  attempted  to  comply.  All  I  remember  ia  this ;  that 
what  was  defective  in  langiinge  and  manner  was  sup- 
plied by  feeling  and  sincerity.  At  theend  of  my  pray* 
er,  she  uttered  her  amen ;  and  after  I  had  resumed  my 
station  by  her,  sh6  faintly  said — *  Ail  my  worldly  do* 
sires  and  connections  now  are  ended.  God  bless  you, 
my  Brother  !*  she  sunk  into  forgetfuluess,  while  re* 
ctining  OD  my  shoulder,  but  after  some  time ;  Louiae 
again  opened  her  languid  eyes,  and  gave  me  an  ex- 
pressive flflance ;  then  as  she  presently  appeared  to  be 
looking  stedfastly  upwards,  my  sister  whispered  to  me 
— '  Diganu,  I  see  it.  Lord  Tesus  !  I  come.' — Her 
eyes  closed  ;  and  she  entered  the  rest  that  remaineth 
to  (he  people  of  God.  We  interred  Louise  by  the  side 
of  her  mother ;  and  (here  I  expiect  to  repose,  in  certain 
hope  of  the  resurrection  of  the  just. 

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